


NOT NEBRASKA

by 36and40, Lira_Chimera, Valkyrie69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionist Dean Winchester, F/M, Fanart, Flashbacks, Funny, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Season 15, Sex in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Top Sam, Voyeurism, War Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/36and40/pseuds/36and40, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lira_Chimera/pseuds/Lira_Chimera, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkyrie69/pseuds/Valkyrie69
Summary: Fighting God sucks. They need a break. Dean offers to jerk Sam off over the bunker's map table in the war room to find a vacation spot....things get more interesting from there.NSFW illustration at the very end.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Rhonda Hurley/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	NOT NEBRASKA

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeycherrypie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeycherrypie/gifts), [Impalababycakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impalababycakes/gifts).



> Friend and fellow writer Lira_Chimera brought this golden nugget of slashy gif-fun to our attention and together with my wonderful “always-beta” 36and40 we thought that it begged for a story to be written about it:
> 
> https://whiskeycherrypie.tumblr.com/post/189921857158
> 
> In the spirit of art inspiring art we made it into a three part exploration of bunker-map-table-sex, set in season 15. Each part written by one of us and beta-ed by the other two. 
> 
> Thank you whiskeycherrypie! Update: whiskeycherrypie says they reblogged the gif and I now think it was perhaps created by Impalababycakes under a different username on Tumblr. If that was you, Impalababycakes, thank you for the awesome inspiration and we gift this to you as well.
> 
> We hope you enjoy it as much as it was fun to write!
> 
> 36and40 started us off and wants you to know:
> 
> “I am taking some liberties with the start.
> 
> Sam splurges on Saxx underwear. He does. Dean might tease him about spending the money, but they actually fit him and he thinks they’re worth it. And Dean doesn’t have much room to talk since we find out what Dean enjoys wearing every so often (and I imagine they’re not cheap either! At least not the ones I’m picturing!).
> 
> I’m also changing the bunker map table chairs to chairs without arms, without wheels, and with a backrest low enough for Sam to lean his head against. I’m not sticking with “show reality” for that one. Part one author picks the chair, shotgun, in this case…well, you know. ”
> 
> And in case you can’t link to the tumlbr site - Transcription of the overdubbed gifs:
> 
> Both brothers sit at the map table in the war room of the MoL bunker
> 
> Dean: I hate this. We should quit.
> 
> Sam: We can't just quit.
> 
> Dean: Vacation?
> 
> Sam: God is out there breaking the world and you want to go on vacation?
> 
> Dean: I got an idea.
> 
> Sam gives Dean an "oh, great" look.
> 
> Dean: Jack you off on the map table.
> 
> Sam: We are not doing that.
> 
> Dean: And wherever your jizz lands, we go there. Huh? (Dean says with a "how 'bout it?" Look.)
> 
> Sam: Dean, I...I can't.
> 
> Sam puts a hand on his forehead like he can't believe Dean just made this request.
> 
> Dean: Unless you got a better way to decide.
> 
> Sam throws his hands up in mock surrender.
> 
> Dean: I knew you wouldn't turn that down, you'd be a damn fool.
> 
> Dean gets up and walks over to where Sam's sitting.
> 
> Dean: Okay, up up up. (He puts a hand on Sam's shoulder.). Try to aim for someplace tropical. I need a tan.
> 
> ______________________________  
> And that art inspired some more art - NSFW illustration added at the end.

** Not Nebraska - part 1 **

_authored by 36and40_

"C'mon, Sammy, I'll jack you off, right here, right over this map...my hand, your cock, I'll do that thing with my thumb...that thing you like," Sam swallows hard, blushing now, "and wherever you come, that's where we'll go," Dean declares with an ‘I'm so clever’ expression on his face.

"You've got to be kidding me.” Sam looks slightly appalled. "I can't, Dean, right now, with everything going on, we're _NOT_ doing that."

Dean looks at Sam, slightly crestfallen, like it was the most reasonable idea in the world.

Sam sighs. "Besides, we don't exactly have a stellar track record where vacations are concerned."

"Aw, come on Sammy," Dean says with exaggerated disappointment. "We had some good vacations."

"Name one," Sam replies as he slowly looks up at Dean with a skeptical but challenging expression.

"South Bend, Indiana, 1998," is Dean's immediate response.

"You mean that time Dad left and you said we were going to have a three day weekend together but you ditched me for a girl?" Sam scoffs.

Dean looks indignant. "I did no such thing," he says emphatically.

Sam shakes his head. He did remember though. In fact, he'd never forgotten it.

______________

When John handed Dean the keys to the motel room and a debit card with $800 on it (because even John would only trust his oldest son so far) with strict instructions not to spend more than $300 over the next three weeks and not let anyone into the room who wasn't Sam, Dean smiled like he was getting the keys to the entire kingdom. Then he quickly squashed the goofy grin and it was all "yes, sir" and "you know I will" and "of course; you can trust me" until John was satisfied enough to throw his duffel into the Impala and fix Dean with a withering stare as he drove off; just to make sure Dean understood there was to be no funny business while he was off working with Caleb on a vampire problem three states away.

When the door closed behind Dean, he let out a whoop. Sam looked up from his borrowed book and groused, "What're you so happy about?"

"What are you NOT happy about, Sammy?" Dean nearly shouted. He flung his arms wide. "We have it all to ourselves!"

"Yeah, and dad took the car, so what the hell are we gonna do around here for three weeks?" Sam asked. "You said we were gonna have a vacation."

Dean _had_ said that. He was so proud of Sam's last all-A's 10th grade report card that he made the promise without thinking about _how_ they'd actually take a vacation, but he wasn't going to back down now.

"We're still gonna have a vacation, Sammy," Dean insisted. "Even better now because we can do whatever the hell we want without Dad around."

"Great," Sam replied without excitement.

"Stop being such a grumpy bitch." Dean stepped up next to Sam and ruffled his hair.

"Fuck off; stop that!" Sam ducked away from Dean's hand.

But Dean wasn't going to let Sam down. He thought about it that night; what Sam loved to do the most. If this was a 3-day vacation like he'd promised, they had to do stuff they both liked...he was determined to give his brother something good.

~ ~ ~

Sam was surprised when on Saturday, after his favorite Frosted Flakes, Dean told him to grab his coat and come on but wouldn't tell him where they were going. They took the bus downtown and Sam couldn't believe it when Dean held the door open for him at his favorite bookstore. He couldn’t fathom that his brother had paid attention enough to even know that he _had_ a favorite bookstore, let alone where it was located. In fact, Sam still has a copy of The Odyssey, held together with duct tape, tattered and soft with age and use in the bottom of his duffel bag that he carries everywhere he goes to remind him of that day. 

"Dad's gonna be pissed when he sees that you spent money on something that wasn't food," Sam pointed out when Dean carried the chosen book to the front counter.

"It ain't his money to be pissed about," Dean replied.

Sam looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Shut up," Dean responded. "I detailed a car for the guy who owns the motel when you were at fucking mathlete practice after school one day and he paid me, alright?"

All Sam could think to say to that was, "Thanks, Dean," his voice quiet. His brother was spending his own money on something for him; money that he had actually worked for, which was saying something. Sam was so touched that he couldn’t put it into words, except to say, as he turned the book over in his hands, “It’s been a really long time since I had a book that didn’t come from a library.”

Dean smiled broadly. “Yeah, yeah, no big deal. Come on, you ginormous nerd, I got lots more fun stuff planned.” 

That turned out to be tossing the football around in the empty lot next to the motel, followed by shooting pool and chowing down on burgers and nachos at the bar next door, all paid for in cash from Dean’s wallet. When the burgers were gone, Sam had a real smile on his face. It had been awhile since Dean had seen him smile like that and it made him feel like he'd done well that day.

~ ~ ~

Dean had promised pay-per-view that night, so when he emerged from the bathroom, smelling good with freshly gelled hair, Sam's confusion was apparent.

"Kinda dressed up for pay-per-view," Sam observed. 

Dean looked uneasy. "I said I'd get _you_ some pay-per-view," he clarified. "I've had a date set up with Rhonda tonight for at least a week."

Sam’s mood plummeted. This was supposed to be their day. Their three day weekend together. He glared at Dean.

"Cut me a break, would ya?" Dean easily read the shift in his brother’s features. "We'll do more stuff tomorrow, I promise." Dean studied Sam's unchanging expression and sighed heavily. He continued, "It's Rhonda's 21st birthday, man. I promised her."

_'You promised me too,'_ Sam thought, but what he said instead was, "So you're taking her out, what, drinking?"

"Duh, yeah, it's her 21st birthday." Dean looked at him like he was the biggest idiot ever. "She'll get free drinks all night."

"And you're gonna be drinking what, Coke?" Sam asked sarcastically. " 'Cause last I checked, you were 19."

"My ID says I'm 22, and that's what Rhonda thinks too so if you ever run into her, shut your damn cake hole about it," Dean says with authority, sounding as much like their father as possible to make sure Sam doesn’t wreck anything for him .

"Just...thanks for ditching me, Dean," Sam's voice had that hint of hurt to it that dug straight into Dean's heart.

"Whatever, dude." Dean ran his hand nervously through his hair which sprang back into place thanks to the gel and pulled his jacket up around his neck. "There's a couple beers in the fridge I was saving for tomorrow but knock yourself out. I'll be back later. Don’t wait up."

_As if_ Sam would be waiting up for his asshole brother. "Fine, _WHATEVER_!" he yelled at Dean’s receding form and the closing door. He flopped back down on the couch to mope alone in the dingy room.

~ ~ ~

Sam had no idea what time it was when the key turned in the lock of room 15, waking him up. The next thing he heard was....giggling followed by exaggerated shushing noises. What the fuck? Dean stumbled backwards through the door a second later, but he wasn't alone.

Rhonda. He was bringing her back to their room. Their home. What the fuck was Dean thinking? Dad would kill him if he found out.

Sam didn't have to wonder what Dean was thinking for long. The furious shushing suddenly stopped, replaced by heavy breathing and the muffled thud of clothes hitting the floor. Sam was overcome with embarrassment and squeezed his eyes shut tight, slinking deeper into the couch he'd fallen asleep on and willing himself invisible as Dean and Rhonda groped their way past him and into the bedroom. Since they had planned to stay in this town for a couple months, John had sprung for a small 2-room efficiency and Sam had never been more grateful.

Dean and Rhonda were half-naked when Sam heard the click of the bedside lamp switching on and Sam squinted at the bright onslaught as the light hit him full in the face where he was lying, directly across from the bedroom door. He saw Dean's bare back and the soft curve of one of Rhonda's breasts before the door closed as quietly as his drunk and horny brother could manage.

Apparently, Dean thought the paper-thin walls and closed hollow-core door rendered the bedroom soundproof, because now Sam could clearly hear their voices as the wedge of light beneath the door was occasionally blocked by bare feet attached to the bodies moving on the other side.

"Put 'em on," he heard Rhonda's voice, lazy with alcohol and low with lust.

"Quit fuckin' around, Ronnie," Dean's voice replied clearly through the door, "Get over here, you tease."

"Put 'em on, or you're not gettin' any of this," The smaller shadows under the door moved away from the larger light-blocking mass of Dean's feet.

"You're killin' me, Ronnie," Dean almost whined.

"Do it," came the reply.

Quiet. Then a little shuffling. Rhonda's voice was slightly incredulous, "Damn, that's fuckin' hot."

"Yeah?" Dean sounded almost...shy.

The next sound was the sharp creak of the bed as the weight of two bodies compressed the vintage springs.

Sam was just about to put the musty couch pillow over his head because he did NOT want to hear this. Hell, if he was lucky, maybe he could smother himself with it right here and now and end this nightmare. To make matters worse, his body was quickly betraying him and his attempts to will down his own erection were failing miserably. He couldn’t think of a more embarrassing situation.

Just then, Sam noticed that the living room was getting lighter as the parallelogram of a bedroom doorframe lost its tenuous grip on the latch. It slowly gave in to gravity and the door quietly swung partially open. 

Sam looked.

Rhonda was naked, straddling Dean, who was flat on his back on the bed as she ground against him, moving her hips in smooth circles. Dean watched her writhe on him, looking up at her with an expression of awe on his face. She brought her hands up to grip her own hair and Sam watched as Dean groaned and arched his back. Sam saw, for a second, a strip of something pink across his brother's hip. What the fuck was that?

Rhonda chose that moment to lean forward to get her lips on Dean's neck, and in doing so, her ass rose up, exposing her entire, slick pussy to Sam's transfixed eyes.

It took nothing more than the mere suggestion of a naked woman to make him hard these days and he'd passed "hard" just listening to Dean and Rhonda. Even though he had tried to fight it, his traitorous body tensed, and his cock was already pushing insistently at the waistband of his sweats, begging for attention.

Sam quickly shoved his hand roughly under the elastic and stifled a gasp as he closed his fist around himself and started stroking. He got a glimpse of Rhonda's tight ass every few seconds as she rocked on his brother, disappearing out of view behind the bunched-up comforter at the foot of the bed before reappearing to wind him up a little higher.

"So big...so fucking hard," she chanted. "Need you to fuck me, Dean -"

"Yeah, baby, feel so fucking good," Dean replied, "Give me a second, darlin’." Dean reached for one of the foil packets Sam knew his brother kept in the nightstand in every room they occupied, then Sam heard, "Lemme turn off the light," Dean’s voice taut with desire. His brother reached out, feeling for the switch on the light and, failing to find it by touch, tore his eyes from the goddess above him, and that's when he locked eyes with Sam.

Sam had been watching them intensely and had given up on the idea of allowing Dean and Rhonda their privacy as he gave in to his body. He rocked his cock in his own hand on the couch and now Dean was staring back. Rhonda was still sucking on his brother’s neck, so she completely missed the way Dean's face went pink, then a bit pale, and his eyes went wide.

Sam froze, damp hair sticking to his forehead, and if Dean was flushed with embarrassment, Sam was burning scarlet at being caught in the act. Had Dean seen what he was doing? Fuck. He wanted to die. He briefly fought back a wave of nausea. Dean was never going to let him live his down

Dean's face flashed with anger, but it was only for as second. Sam couldn't look away and couldn't quite believe it when his brother raised an eyebrow and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah baby," Dean encouraged Rhonda's mouth on his neck, never breaking eye contact with Sam, "don't stop what you're doing. Got me so fucking hard." And with that, Dean shoved the comforter off the bed with his foot, giving Sam an extremely clear view of everything.

Sam's brain raced as Dean's cock, straining inside of what Sam could only assume were Rhonda's pink too-small panties pressed against her soaking center as she rubbed herself off on his brother through the fabric.

"You gonna turn off the light?" she murmured.

Dean was still staring at Sam, "Naw, baby, so fucking hot, I wanna watch you."

Sam's hand had already found its way back to his cock and it surged in his palm at his brother's words.

Rhonda giggled against a Dean's throat, "You wanna watch me ride you?"

Dean smirked at Sam who couldn't hide what he was doing now for a million dollars as he thrust more forcefully into his fist. Dean turned his attention back to Rhonda. He kissed her roughly, tongues intertwining as he groaned deeply, putting one hand behind her neck to keep her lips on his.

Dean reached down with his other hand and stretched the pink satin below his balls where they stood out, full and heavy. Sam drew in a breath as Dean's thick cock sprang to attention, freed from the panties and shining where Rhonda had creamed his entire length right through the sheer fabric. Dean groaned as he rolled the condom on one-handed, then put a palm on each side of Rhonda's ass.

"You ready to ride, baby?" he drawled, all cheesy porn star.

"Hell yeah, cowboy," she growled back.

"Then hold on, sweetheart." Dean glanced back down at Sam and pulled Rhonda open for Sam’s benefit as he pressed up into her. Sam watched as his brother’s thick, hard cock disappeared inside her until he was completely sheathed. 

Her creamy slickness dripped down his shaft, lips of her pussy molded against his length as he pulled back before shoving into her, balls-deep. She spread her knees wide and moved on top of him, moaning.

"Harder...harder!" Rhonda forgot to be quiet and exclaimed, "Oh _FUCK_ yeah!" as she impaled herself as deep as possible on a Dean's plunging cock, her hand flying down to touch herself. She moaned and moved her hand between her legs, starting to shudder before falling forward onto Dean's chest.

Sam was so close. It was like he was watching live porn. So much better than the promised pay-per-view that he had been too angry to enjoy earlier. He propped one knee up against the back of the couch and let the other fall against to seat cushion so that his cock had as much room as he could give it. Sam knew he was large for his age thanks to the fucking humiliating gym class open showers he was required to take and the inevitable teasing that always followed. Usually, he wanted to disappear. To hide. To never have anyone look at him. He felt ashamed of his body where everything was too long and too big (including _that_ ) and too out of his control, just like the rest of his life. But this felt different. It felt hot as fuck to feel his own hard length arcing away from his groin. In fact, he was hot all over – sweating and tense and desperate for release. His cock tented his sweats nearly to his navel where there was a growing dark spot as it pressed against the fabric and leaked at the tip. There was something that Sam could never have put into words then, but knowing that Dean was giving him permission to watch, that Dean didn’t look like he was disgusted with him in any way. That Dean wanted Sam to do exactly what his body was begging him to do, well, it turned on his brain as well as the rest of him to a level he’d never felt before. He watched how much Rhonda seemed to like his brother’s cock inside of her; how easily she’d taken him in and begged for more. He was getting a front row view of his brother’s impressive erection, and Sam knew he was already as big as Dean was in the dick department, ever since that growth spurt a couple of years ago. In the back of his mind, he thought that maybe, if he was lucky, someday there would be a girl who would like having him inside of her as much as Rhonda was enjoying his brother. Maybe his size wasn’t entirely a bad thing. At fifteen, it felt necessary to get off; to give himself release several times a day, but he’d never felt as turned on while stroking himself and he’d never been as hard as he was right now.

When Rhonda fell forward after riding out her orgasm, Sam could see her flushed pussy still grasping for his brother's cock as Dean pulled out and ripped off the condom, quickly tossing it aside. Sam watched, rapt, as Dean slid his cock across her slick center and then pushed two fingers inside her as she moaned. He gave a few deep thrusts with his fingers, before pulling his hand away and wrapping his thoroughly-creamed fist around himself.

He locked eyes with Sam again, "I'm so fuckin’ close, babe, gonna come so hard."

"Yeah," a fucked-out Rhonda murmured, "come all over my ass, baby."

Dean’s gaze bore into Sam, watching him buck and strain on the couch. "Want you to feel so good, gonna shoot all over you,” he promised.

"Do it," Rhonda sighed in reply against Dean's neck.

Sam thought Dean gave him a small nod as clear fluid started to flow from the tip of his brother's cock and Sam felt the answering wet heat start to spill between his own fingers.

"Oh yeah, baby," Dean was saying to Rhonda but his eyes never left his brother’s as Sam arched his back, bowed his neck against the arm of the couch, and felt the overwhelming wave roll through his balls. Sam's cock strained against his sweats, he opened his mouth to scream but fought successfully to keep silent, and he let go, pumping out round after round of come, coating the inside of his pants.

Dean followed less than a second later, gasping out, "Oh, _fuck_ ," digging his heels into the mattress, arching his back nearly in unison with Sam, and shooting white hot ropes that hit Ronda's back and dripped down her ass, his fist gripping his cock tightly.

Rhonda stayed flat on Dean's chest, held there by his left arm across her shoulders as Dean peered over her back to his brother on the couch. Dean was breathing as hard as Sam was. "Made me come so fucking hard," Dean said, looking right at Sam. "Mmmmm…" Rhonda murmured contentedly from her position blanketing his brother. The sound she made conveniently covered the simultaneous groan that finally ripped from Sam’s throat as he felt the rush of heat brought on by the breathless edge in his brother’s voice. If he hadn’t just come harder than he had in his entire life, Dean’s tone would have provoked another orgasm all by itself.

Sam ran his clean hand through his damp hair and couldn't help a small smile from catching the edge of his lips. 

Dean looked back at him, winked, and reached over to cut the light.

~ ~ ~

Sam waited until he heard Dean snoring from the next room before shucking his wrecked sweats and pulling out a clean pair of boxers from his duffel on the floor next to the couch. He fell asleep in an instant, totally relaxed.

~ ~ ~

Sam woke the next morning to the sound of voices outside the cracked front door as Dean paid the cab driver to take Rhonda home and she invited him to "call me?" which he promised to do.

Dean was whistling when he came back inside. "Hey, 'bout time you got your lazy ass up," he said to Sam. "You get first dibs on the shower, man." Dean started to take out a couple of bowls for breakfast, then, as Sam headed for the bathroom, Dean called after him, "Hey, Sammy?"

Sam froze, mortified that Dean might try to give him some kind of big brother lecture about the previous night, or, even worse, tease him about it.

"Toss your laundry out, would ya? I'm gonna go put in a load before breakfast." 

Sam threw his boxers and t-shirt out the bathroom door as he waited for the shower to warm up.

Dean collected Sam's clothes and picked up the still-damp sweats piled next to the couch. He threw them into the laundry bag and smiled.

They never spoke a single word about what happened the night before.

_____________

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Dean asks suggestively against Sam's ear.

All Sam can do is give a terse nod in reply.

"You want me to tell you what I remember, Sammy?" Dean sounds like he wants to tell it as badly as Sam wants to listen.

Dean had dragged his chair over next to where Sam was sitting at the map table. He reaches forward, from slightly behind his brother, and Sam feels his fingertip brush over a nipple through his shirt. He draws in a sharp breath and nods again.

"Alright, little brother," Dean's voice is low. "I remember I felt like a total douche for going out that night, but you remember what Dad used to say - "

"A girl won't lay down for a guy who stands her up," Sam says in unison with his brother and then they both chuckle.

"Yup," Dean continues, "and back then I thought everything he said was set in stone." Dean rubs a hand over Sam's cotton-covered chest, palm flat.

“What do you remember?” Sam asks, starting to relax under Dean’s touch.

"We'd been gettin' free drinks all night, being her 21st birthday and all." Dean moves his hand to the back of Sam's neck and rubs at the tension there. Sam sighs and closes his eyes. "It was gettin' late and she was all over me at the bar. I told her the car was in the shop and called us a cab."

"She didn't know we lived with dad?" Sam asks absentmindedly.

"Nope," Dean replies. Told her it was just the two of us. Dad wasn't gonna be around much while we were livin' there anyway."

"So you got a cab..." Sam prompts.

"Yeah, yeah, we got into the cab and she climbed right the fuck into my lap and we started making out." Dean brushes the back of Sam's neck with his lips on the way to his ear. "We were kissing and I put a hand up her shirt." Dean reaches to the front and pops a few snaps on Sam's cotton plaid before reaching inside. "I got a hand inside her bra and started playing with her nipple." Dean's fingers encircle one of Sam’s nipples and he starts stroking with a gentle pinch every once in awhile. Sam moans and Dean chuckles softly. "Yeah, she liked it too," he purrs in Sam's ear, causing Sam to shiver at his lava tone. "She was grinding in my lap and my cock was getting so fucking hard right there in the cab. Felt like I could pound nails with it and I wanted to fuck her so bad, Sammy."

Sam lets his head fall back against the back of the chair, "Keep going," he says, trying not to beg.

Dean smiles against Sam's neck. "She took my hand and stuck it under her skirt."

"Yeah?" Sam asks, a small hitch in his voice.

"Uh huh," Dean continues, "And I could feel these really soft, smooth panties under there. She'd already soaked 'em, Sammy, she was so turned on. I rubbed her there and she kinda whined so I worked my fingers under 'em; kinda pushed the crotch to the side and started touching her."

"What'd she feel like?" Sam asks and Dean thinks he's starting to sound a little breathless.

"She felt fucking amazing," Dean replies. "She was so wet and hot, and I slipped a finger inside her and she nearly broke my hand pressing down on it." Dean pauses for a second.

"Then what?" Sam asks anxiously. Dean's hand leaves his chest and Sam waits impatiently for whatever's next.

"I thought about just unzipping and fucking her right there in my lap in the cab," Dean continues. "Woulda been hot as hell but then I noticed this perv of a cab driver kept glancing at us in the rear view, so I whispered to Rhonda," Dean gets close to Sam's ear again and lowers his voice to a whisper, "I wanna fuck you so bad, baby, but I wanna do it right. We're close to my place and if you just hang on, I promise I'm gonna rock your world."

"You did _not_ say that!" Sam rolls his eyes in spite of his current situation.

"Who's telling this story?" Dean asks as Sam hears a pop of the cap on the tube of lube Dean always seems to keep somewhere on him.

"So, she was wet," Sam tries to get Dean back on track.

"Yeah, fucking soaking," Dean confirms. "You mind gettin' outta those?"

Sam doesn't waste any time releasing the button on his jeans and taking down the zipper. He briefly lifts his ass and tugs until the denim pools at his ankles. His half-hard cock bulges in his mid-thigh Saxx. 

"That's better," Dean says behind him. "It was torture goin’ those last few miles to the motel, man. She had a hand on my cock and was rubbing me while we kissed." Dean starts palming Sam's cock through his briefs with his left hand, causing Sam to groan and press into the touch. "When I put a hand on her face I could smell her on me and it was driving me crazy.” Dean pauses a second, and even though Sam can’t see him, he’s pretty sure his brother’s eyes are closed as he remembers what she did to all of his senses.

“Dean?” Sam shakes him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, sorry, man.” Dean continues to rub Sam through the fabric. “When the cab dropped us off, we couldn't get inside fast enough. I prayed like hell you'd fallen asleep on the couch like you usually did. I told Rhonda we had to be like a couple of fucking ninjas so we didn't wake you up."

"As if that worked," Sam replies, a catch in his voice. Dean shifts to the other side behind him and his right hand, slick with lube, reaches inside Sam's briefs to gently close around his cock where it's pressing hard against the fabric.

"Did too. We didn't make one fucking noise until we got past you. You were out like a fucking light." Dean sets up a slow, lazy, loose pace with is hand around his brother's cock.

"It's nice that you think that," Sam manages to say despite what his brother’s attention is doing to him.

"Shut up," Dean teases. "I was so glad we were finally in the fucking bedroom and we started losing our clothes as fast as we could." Dean keeps stroking and notices Sam's legs falling wider apart to give him access. "She undid my jeans and pulled 'em down, then she got on her knees and pulled my boxers down with her damn mouth. She looked like she was gonna blow me, but I was already so far gone and I wanted to get inside her, Sammy."

"Yeah?" Sam starts rocking into Dean's stroking grip.

"Yeah. She’d taken everything off except those panties. And when I told her I wouldn't last if she got her lips on me, she stood up and smiled. She got this wicked look on her face and she looked down at my dick and kinda rubbed it against her stomach until I almost lost it." Dean presses Sam's cock flat against his own stomach and rubs insistently. Sam presses back against his brother's palm.

"Oh, fuck, Dean," Sam seemingly says to the ceiling, head still back against the chair.

"That's it, little brother," Dean growls. "Then she put her hand inside her panties, touched herself, and pushed her wet fingers into my mouth."

" _Fuck_ ," Sam groans, bucking forward against Dean's palm.

"You're tellin' me," Dean replies. "Then she says, 'You're not gettin' any of this unless you put these on,' and she steps away from me and turns around. Bends over as she takes off the panties so I can see everything and I had to put a hand on myself just to try to hold back." Dean returns his grip to his brother's cock, stroking his entire slick length. "She takes 'em off and holds 'em out to me. I thought she was kidding, but when I went to get a hand on her she stepped away and shook her head. She said, 'Put ‘em on,' and I thought it was crazy but fuck, I wanted her so bad, Sammy, I would’ve put on her skirt and her bra if she’d asked me."

Sam lets out a low, tense chuckle at that image.

"So I grabbed the panties from her and stepped into 'em and pulled 'em on. They were pretty wet from how turned on she was. Then I pulled her against me and we fell onto the bed."

"What'd they feel like?" Sam asks, rocking with a steady rhythm into Dean's hand now.

"They were really smooth and had some decent stretch, but they were still way too fucking small."

"A lot smaller than the ones you have now?" Sam managed to tease.

"You making fun of me, Sammy?” Dean asks, mock-threatening, and he reaches low to put some gentle pressure on Sam's balls.

"Never. _Fuck_ , dammit Dean, don't stop, come _on_." It’s no secret that Sam thoroughly enjoys Dean in his current assortment of sleek panties that actually fit whenever he gets the urge to wear them, which, thank God, is pretty often.

"Didn't think so," Dean smiles and moves his hand back to Sam's cock, starting slow and trying to set up the right rhythm again. "They were stretched really tight on me, Sammy. My cock was sticking out the top and my balls were bulging out the sides and it felt like an ACE bandage across my ass."

"You ever _had_ an ACE bandage across your ass?" Sam asks and lets his head fall back again as he loses himself in his brother's perfect stroking.

"Just tellin' ya what it felt like, smartass," Dean squeezes him a bit harder and Sam bucks in the chair.

"So...panties - " Sam prompts.

"Yeah, something about me puttin' 'em on really set her off and she straddled me, Sammy, and just started rubbing against me and those damn panties. They were cuttin' into my cock and squeezing my balls and it felt dirty and pretty fucking hot too."

Sam grips the edges of the seat of the chair and lets Dean do the work.

"I had to get inside her. Felt like I’d die if I had to wait one more second, so I scrambled to get a damn condom and switch off the light, and then…I saw you, Sammy.”

Sam tenses, just like he did back then.

"The door was open somehow and you were there on the couch. I could see your face and I knew you'd been watching us."

Sam makes a small noise in his throat.

"At first I was kinda pissed 'cause I knew that if Rhonda saw you, she'd leave. But then I really looked at you and you'd been moving, but you’d stopped and you looked scared, Sammy. Didn't take a genius to know you were gettin' off and something just clicked," Dean admits.

"Whaddya mean?" Sam asks, breathless.

"I never wanted you to be scared of me, Sammy. And damn, you were fifteen. It was my job teach you stuff and, well, I just thought maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if you got to see what it's like to fuck a woman who's really into you," Dean says quietly. "Plus you probably woulda died of blue balls if you stopped then," he teases.

"Keep going," was all Sam could ask.

"I left the light on, I made sure Rhonda was lookin' at me or kissing me so she didn't know you were awake, and I had to get the condom on, but I was wearing those damn panties, so I take the waistband and pull it down under my balls." Sam protests as Dean's hand leaves his cock to take the waistband of his Saxx and pull it down until it's trapped behind Sam's full balls. "Yeah; like that." Dean pauses for half a second to take in the view from his position next to and slightly behind his brother. Sam’s balls bulge above the waistband and his cock reaches forward, bobbing slightly as Sam’s hips rock, seeking out more friction. Dean rushes to get his hand back on his brother’s impressive length. 

"Fuck," is all Sam can grit out as Dean's hand goes back to stroking.

“I grabbed the condom and rolled it on." Dean pauses in the story for a second. "What'd it look like to you, little brother?"

Sam's way with words is gone, all attention on Dean's hand stroking him just right and the memory of that night. "Like a fucking wet dream," he admits. "Don't stop, Dean."

Dean picks up the speed of his stroking. "So she's already straddling me and my stomach's all wet from her pussy, and I put my hands on her waist and move her lower and she raises up on those perfect fucking thighs and sinks down on me and it's like I'm in heaven."

"How?" Sam’s rocking into Dean's hand with increasing speed.

"She's so tight and hot and wet and I slid all the way in. She took it all and she pressed down so deep and started riding me. She was moaning like I was killing her and she had her hands on my chest for leverage. I kept fucking up into her and then she reached down and touched herself and she came on my cock, Sammy. Came so fucking hard and it was like she grabbed onto me and I could _feel_ her come from the inside." 

Sam gasps when Dean removes his hand altogether but almost immediately he’s back with more lube and he grasps his brother firmly, undulating his fingers up and down his shaft. " _Jesus fuck, Dean,_ " Sam groans.

"Kinda like that," Dean slows the rippling of his fingers and goes back to stroking. "It felt so fucking good. It felt a bit too good, if you know what I mean, and I was about to blow but thought maybe the condom broke and I didn't want to risk coming inside her. So I pulled out and got the condom off. Turns out it was just the first time I used one of those ultra-thin ones and didn't know it would feel like that. Those things were awesome - "

"Dean!" Sam exclaims.

"What?" He replies.

" _Not_ the time to discuss your condom brand loyalty! I'm close, Dean, please."

"Then stand up, Sammy," Dean unexpectedly directs him.

"Now?" Sam whines, "Dean, I dunno if I can -"

"Do it, Sam." Dean's tone is the one he knows Sam will never disobey. Dean hauls him shakily to his feet. He never stops stroking and once Sam is up, Dean kicks the chair aside and pulls his brother back against him, left hand splaying across Sam's chest to hold him there.

Sam lets his head fall back on Dean's shoulder and Dean happens to glance up and catch Sam's reflection in the glass of one of the bunker's display cases. Dean's voice fails him as he takes in his brother, shirt hanging open, cock straining where it juts out from his balls, held high by the waistband of his Saxxs. The lit table illuminates Sam's abs, the hard “V” of his groin, and his cock from below in a soft yellow glow that plays around the swaying tips of Sam’s hair where it brushes his shoulders in rhythm with the stroking, giving him sporadic gold highlights. Dean's momentarily dumbstruck at the sight.

"Dean", Sam's panting, but getting no response. " _Dean?!_ " He pleads.

"Um, yeah, sorry Sammy, where was I?" Dean's brain tries to reorganize itself.

"Condom, you took it off and grabbed your cock," Sam's words rush out.

"Hey, little brother, you're getting a bit ahead of me," Dean scolds, speeding up his hand. "So she's lying on my chest, straddling me, kissing my neck, and I bet you had a pretty fucking great view of her, didn't ya, Sammy?"

Sam nods tersely in reply.

"So I get the condom off and just slide my cock across her pussy 'cause it's so wet and I put a couple fingers inside her and she kinda whimpers in my ear like it feels good, like she wants me to fuck her with my hand, but then I looked back at you Sammy and Jesus Christ; you were staring holes through me and jerking off on the couch. Your hair was sticking to your forehead and your mouth was open. Your face was as pink as those fucking panties and then you looked away and I realized you were looking at my cock; at how I was stroking myself and you were gonna watch me come and I was ready to blow..." Dean keeps going, words spilling out quickly now. "But you were still hangin' on. Your forehead was a scrunched up like it is when you're reading something you like and you were ready too, but you weren't lettin' go. You had to go first Sammy. I had to make sure you were okay first."

Sam groans and reaches back to put a hand on each side of his brother's denim-clad ass, pulling himself closer against Dean's body and Dean can feel his own rock-hard cock nesting in the cleft of Sam's performance fabric-covered ass.

"So I tried to hold back," Dean continues, "Wanted you to know it was okay to let go. And fuck, Sammy, when you arched your neck against the arm of that couch and you opened your mouth like you were gonna scream, I was ready to yell louder to cover for you, but you were so fucking good; you didn't make a sound and you stopped moving and I knew you were stripping that huge cock of yours and filling up your sweats, coming all over yourself, and you were lookin’ right at me when it happened and I couldn't hold it back anymore, little brother." Dean's stroking furiously now, working up a bit of a sweat himself as Sam rocks his hips forward into Dean's fist and back against Dean's straining cock inside his jeans.

" ‘M so close Dean," Sam confesses breathlessly.

"Yeah, that's it, Sammy, I can feel it." Another detail pops into Dean's head. "There's something you don't know, little brother," he growls into Sam's ear.

"Wh...what?" Sam closes his eyes and Dean can feel his brother's cock stretch to maximum length in his hand. He's right on the edge.

"When I went to do the laundry the next morning, I kept thinking about your face when you came. You looked like you trusted me...and I got so hard thinking about it on the way to the laundromat, I ran inside that tiny bathroom and jerked off into your sweats. They were still damp and they smelled like you and fuck, Sammy, I had to hold onto the sink to keep from passing out, I came so fucking hard thinking about how you blew your load in 'em the night before while you were looking at me; so fucking gorgeous like that, Sammy," and with that, Dean moves his thumb right up under the wide head of Sam's cock and starts up a fast, perfect press and release right on the bundle of nerves there. The spot that drives Sam crazy without fail every time. Sam's grip on Dean’s ass is near-painful.

"Ah! _Dean, fuuuccck yes!_ " Sam's cock starts to twitch in Dean's hand and he arches his back and cries out, white release shooting across the table in three powerful streams until he sags back in his brother’s arms, fighting for breath.

"That's it, Sammy. I've got you." Dean rubs a palm over the mess on the head of Sam's cock and breaks the shimmering white thread that connects it to the small pearlescent pool on the table below as the last of the orgasm surges through him. "So fucking gorgeous." Dean kisses Sam's shoulder closest to his lips.

Moments later, Sam's back in the chair, legs like Jello, his own hand bringing his cock down now, slowly stroking himself, head back, eyes closed. He looks so peaceful and happy, Dean thinks he could watch his brother like this forever. Dean glances out onto the table, painfully aware that he was about to blow several times in the last few minutes and that he willed it back each time because this one was about Sam. 

He scans the map.

" _NOT_ Nebraska!" Dean exclaims.

"What?" Sam asks sleepily and cracks open an eye to look at his brother, his heavy cock hanging between his legs as he stretches his arms high over his head.

"You came on Nebraska, for fuck's sake, Sam. We are _not_ taking a vacation to fucking Nebraska!"

"Sorry, Dean," Sam laughs, "Guess my aim wasn't the first thing on my mind." Sam glances to the side where Dean is standing and sees his fly straining. His eyes flick up to meet his brother's. "You think you could do better?" he asks, raising a thoroughly fucked-out, satisfied eyebrow.

"I know I could," Dean looks down with a challenging expression.

"Then let’s go, cowboy," Sam smiles, reaching for his brother.

** Not Nebraska - part 2 **

_authored by Lira_Chimera_

“Then, let’s go, cowboy,” Sam says, smiling, but with that specific tone of command pitched just for Dean and never anyone else. And only for very special occasions. 

“Bossy,” Dean grouses under his breath, but he closes the distance between them with three quick steps, heart leaping in his chest. Sam smiles again and gives him a slight nod of approval. Dean blushes and looks down, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy. He feels the sting of that blush high on his cheekbones and a shivery prickle runs down his back. It’s so weird how Sam can be mostly nude and Dean still feels like the naked one, even fully dressed. 

Sam stands up and puts his arms around him, drawing him in for a kiss, just a gentle press of mouths, friendly and undemanding. Then, Sam pauses, looking down at him with that considering gaze which he turns on particularly vital puzzles. Dean shivers again, and Sam lets go with one arm so that he can stroke down the length of Dean’s back while still holding him steady with the other. 

They had played plenty of power games early in their personal reconnaissance with each other after Sam left Stanford, jousting with each other, testing each other, seeing just how far they could go, which turned out to be pretty far. But, as hunting became more and more demanding, and personally devastating, they had fallen back on simpler things, hand jobs or quick fucks. Then even that stopped when they had become too busy, too strung out by the hits of deaths, deceptions, and the increasingly difficult to navigate machinations of the angels and demons, and humans, who sought to use them for their personal agendas. Their experiences in Hell and the Cage, the various possessions, kidnappings and all the rest didn’t make things any easier. For years they struggled to hang onto even the most basic aspects of their relationship. 

But, gradually they had recovered their balance. Despite everything, the bedrock of their relationship as brothers was still solid, and as hunters it had never been better. They had fallen back into bed with their eyes open and with far less of the sturm und drang of earlier years. Sex had become comfort food, affection eased their anxiety, and, with all of their hard-won abilities, safety and privacy were much easier to achieve. With all this had come back the more complex desires that they had experimented with so long ago. 

As Sam strokes his back, Dean feels his tension slip away, his eyes close and his head tips forward to rest on his brother’s shoulder. After a bit, the stroking slows, then stops. Dean raises his head, opens his eyes and meets Sam’s gaze. 

“You good?” Sam asks, his voice low and rough. 

Dean nods, then says, “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

For answer, Sam takes Dean’s head in his hands and guides their mouths together. 

Dean holds onto his brother, letting Sam call the shots. It feels so good, such a relief, to just allow and receive, to give back what Sam asks for, to sink into pure delicious sensation knowing he’ll be kept safe. 

They kiss for what seems forever, bodies pressed tight together, until they’re breathless and dizzy. At last, Sam draws back. 

“I was wondering… if you’d be up for a little experiment. You can say no, of course,” Sam adds, seeing something in Dean’s face that Dean isn’t even aware of. 

“Well, what do you have in mind?” 

“I, I bought a little knife I thought you’d appreciate,” Sam says, with an expression of excitement and guilt, hope and anxiety all warring together. “You can say no.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. 

“You got it on you?”

“Well, yeah…” 

“Well, show me, then, you dork.” 

“I gotta get to my jeans,” Sam says. 

“I don’t like that part,” Dean replies. “But, hustle, kid. Go get it.” 

Sam dives for his jeans and digs in the right front pocket. He comes back to his brother and holds out his hand. Resting on his palm is a folding knife with a mother of pearl grip inlaid with a delicate tracery of silver. Dean takes the knife and examines the inlay. Then he grins with delight. 

“Where in the world did you find this?” he asks, hefting the knife and appreciating how sturdy it feels even though it’s only about four inches long closed. 

“Online, of course,” Sam says, bashful, shy, but smiling happily at Dean’s obvious pleasure.

Dean opens the knife. The blade is slim but there’s enough room for a delicate engraving of octopus arms leading back to the silver body inlaid on the grip. Little, u-shaped pupiled eyes glint up at him mischievously. He tests the edge and it’s wickedly sharp. Dean nods appreciatively, recognizing Sam’s work. They were both good with knives, but Sam had a particular knack at dressing edges that Dean had always admired. A bit of apprehension that he hadn’t even known he was feeling eases to nothing. 

“What in the world made you buy this?”

“Well, remember that time in the swamp with Dad?” 

“Uh… which time?” 

“The tentacles of doom swamp in Michigan. It was fall and really cold, you got clocked and Dad was on the bank holding you and I-“

“Oh, yeah… I remember that.” 

_______________

“Hurry!” Dad’s voice was raw with exhaustion and uncharacteristic desperation.

“I’m _trying_ , but-“

“Sam, I can’t hold him much longer-“

And the weight of the dead thing that had one last weird, wiry, tough tentacle wrapped around Dean’s thigh dragged him another few inches into the frigid water. 

“Sam!” John begged, stretched tight between his precarious hold on a slender willow sapling and the collars of Dean’s jacket and shirts, feet braced, for now, on the sloping bank. Sam didn’t answer, too busy trying to stay afloat without dropping his knife and figure out how to remove the last tentacle without hurting his brother. 

Sam’s heart lurched from one beat to the next and his brain fizzed with static. It was hard to think with Dean silent and limp. He could see fairly well thanks to the brilliant moon overhead, but it was a nightmarish image. Dean’s face pale and vacant, eyes partly open but unseeing, his limp body vanishing into the dark, silky water, the tentacle a thick line around his leg and the creature’s body a black, bulky shadow below them. At least his brother‘s head was still well above the surface, though the water now reached up to his waist and was lapping at his lowest ribs. 

Sam had managed to cut away two other tentacles which the unnamed beast had wound around Dean’s left ankle and left forearm, but this last one, the largest and longest, had a double loop around Dean’s left thigh. Now the full weight of the creature pulled against this last tentacle which, like the others, instead of releasing in death had tightened into place and showed no signs of loosening its grip.

He had learned a lot from the other tentacles. The outer skin was too tough and springy to cut so he’d had to pry carefully at the edge of them with the point of his knife, finding the narrow margin where the skin changed to slick softness and many, many suckers. Only there could the blade make headway and even then it was slow going through the fibrous muscles. Then, some still-working nerve was severed and the tentacles had finally given up and fallen away. Dean’s boot had protected his ankle from the knife and the heavy canvas of his coat had done the same for his arm, but there was only the one layer of denim over his leg.

Sam did his best to set aside the idea that there might be more than one of the beasts, that the sounds of water fretting quietly at the muddy bank wasn’t just water but another of these horrid things come to hunt the hunters. He shivered, took a deep breath, ducked his head under the water and focused on the last tentacle. 

Sam felt carefully with the fingers of his left hand and delicately pried again with the knife as he had before but this tentacle was thicker and much more tough than the others, and flatter instead of rounded. The blade slipped and the point caught in the denim and made a small cut before Sam could stop it. 

A tiny swirl of blood floated from the cut and Sam swore viciously, if silently, in his head. He went up for a breath. Above him, John was swearing, too, but Sam ignored him and frowned hard at the problem, demanding an answer from his racing thoughts. This tentacle was not going to be removed the way the others had been. He stared at the little cut in Dean’s jeans and his mind suddenly went quiet. 

Taking three deep breaths and holding the last, Sam went under again. 

He felt his way down Dean’s leg to his boot, where he cut the laces, pulled off the boot and let it go. Then he did the same to the other boot and went back to the surface to gasp for breath. The water was so cold. He was shivering in earnest now, and his fingers were getting numb. 

John was yelling something but Sam didn’t listen, didn’t bother to answer. He tried to undo Dean’s belt but the leather was soaked and swollen, the buckle too tight to free. Sam turned the knife on the belt and it parted the leather with satisfying ease. Dean’s jeans slipped down a couple of inches, dragged by the tentacle, then stopped, hung up on something Sam couldn’t see, maybe a root sticking out of the bank behind them or a rock. 

“God damn it,” Sam muttered, trying to undo the top button of the fly, but the weight of the creature had jammed it tight in the hole. 

Sam crammed the fingers of his left hand under the waistband of Dean’s jeans and managed to create a gap where he could just slip the point of the knife. He twisted the blade outwards, away from Dean’s skin, and the denim reluctantly parted on that sharp edge, then more quickly as Sam forced it farther along the outside of Dean’s hip. 

John’s grip on the willow slipped, and he made a despairing sound unlike anything Sam had ever heard from him, but it turned out that the tiny relief of pressure from above was enough to free the back of Dean’s pants. 

Above him, John gasped as some of the weight was relieved for a moment as the jeans slid down Dean’s legs. Sam heard his father growl, the denim answered with a muted _rrrrip_ , and Dean was lifted almost to his knees out of the water. Sam reached down and pulled on the ends of the jeans, guiding them roughly over his brother’s legs and feet. The tentacle closed, but too slowly, and jeans and creature vanished into the depths. 

John wrenched Dean out of the water and onto the bank, then put out his hand for Sam. 

The last thing Sam heard was his father’s shout as he went under. 

He woke gradually, dry and warm, and wrapped in rough hotel sheets and musty blankets. The bed felt like heaven despite the questionable bedding and the uneven mattress. Faint light creeping under the heavy curtains suggested it was just before dawn. There was the quiet rush of traffic on the freeway about a mile distant and John snored rhythmically, quietly, in the other bed. 

Heat radiated from behind him. Dean was tucked close and wrapped in more bedding. His brother’s breath came and went tickling the back of his neck. Dean moved a little in his sleep, a sort of abortive snuggle that stopped as quickly as it started, then he settled again. 

Sam was suddenly painfully aware of the raging hard on that ached and pulsed between his legs, and the remnants of a vivid dream blossomed in his head and made him blush so hot that his face actually stung. Something about Dean wound around with rope, a slim knife, danger averted and relief that threatened to spill like a hot Niagara. Sam took one long, slow, deep breath after another and tried to think about anything but his brother. It was excruciating but gradually his tension eased. A few tears followed that relief, and the bone deep gratefulness that they had escaped the awful beast and were still alive. 

After a bit, Sam dozed, pathetically glad for his brother’s closeness, because Dean was not just alive but apparently well enough to sleep without John keeping watch. 

Then, he woke again and it was morning. He was alone in the bed. John was at the little Formica table drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, and the shower was running in the tiny moldy bathroom. He could hear Dean singing off key, riffing off the lyrics to “Son of a Bitch” and swearing when he dropped the soap. If the blow that had knocked Dean out had caused yet another concussion it wasn’t bothering him much, that was for sure. 

“You okay, Sam?” Dad asked quietly, turning a page. 

“Yeah… You?” 

“Yep.” John paused, then cleared his throat. “You did really well last night, kid. I couldn’t have saved him without you.” 

Sam glowed at the unaccustomed praise, then remembered the frigid water, the knife, the tiny swirl of blood when he’d nicked Dean’s skin, the awful clinging of that dead creature, and he shuddered. Then, the dream he’d had came back with full force and he hid his face in his hands, pretending to yawn and then yawning for real. 

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you, either. We likely would have both bitten it.” 

“Yeah, well, we didn’t. We lived to hunt again. Speaking of which-“

“I’m up,” Sam said, and the day began. 

_______________

Dean listens to Sam’s retelling of that difficult night with equanimity but when he gets to the part about the dream, the hard on and Dad there the whole time he bursts out laughing. 

“Oh, Sammy, I never knew you had a thing for Tentai!” 

It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Well, no, not really, but I know you like it- don’t huff at me, Dean, I know what’s in your browser history. You’re crap at hiding it. Look, I never dreamed like that again but I, I had this thought…” Sam hesitates, stops, and blushes bright red. 

“Yeah? Sammy, what’re you thinking of?” 

“I, I’d like to cut off some part of your clothes. Any part. Your choice. Now, or never, or some other time. The knife will keep- I just thought it was pretty…” 

Dean almost swoons, which is a weird word and super annoying but perfect to describe the feeling that comes over him, a sudden dizziness and a longing that he’s completely unprepared for. 

“Okay.” 

“What?” Sam stares at him, taken aback by his immediate acquiescence. 

“Go for it. I mean, not these jeans ‘cause they’re my favorites, but…” 

Dean unbuckles his belt, undoes the button of his jeans and slides the zipper down.

“O-oh…” Sam breathes at the glimpse of deep garnet glossy fabric that has been hidden until now. “Are, are you sure?” 

“Sammy. Yeah, just be careful, okay?” 

“Dean.” Sam takes him by the chin and raises his face to look right into his eyes. 

Dean meets that searching gaze steadily and after a moment, Sam takes a long, deep breath, then says, 

“Okay.” Sam holds out his hand for the knife. “Tap out if you need to, alright?”

“Green, yellow, red,” Dean says somewhat absently, and he puts the knife back in Sam’s hand. 

His eyes will not leave that knife. It looks like a bit of jewelry in his brother’s big hand, and if he hadn’t known how the blade had been so carefully prepared he would have been getting out his own sharpening stone. Sammy must have done a fair bit of research, he must have been planning this for a while now, Dean realizes. That’s both comforting and makes his breath hitch a little, and his groin ache. Later, much later, he would laugh at himself and consider examining why his brother wanting to cut something off of him was so immediately acceptable. But for now…

“Dean?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Dean drags his eyes away and looks up at his brother.

Sam searches his face again but what he sees must convince him because he smiles a little and says, 

“Strip- but leave those panties on.” 

That note of command was back again and Dean swallows hard. For a moment he’s full of apprehension (he wouldn’t use the word “fear,” this is _Sam_ and there’s no need for that but still) then he’s pulling off his shirts, undoing the laces and prying off his boots, dropping his jeans and kicking them into a puddle on the floor, and leaving the sweet silk satin behind as sacrifice. 

“Let your arms rest,” Sam says, putting the knife down on the map table. “Spread your legs a little.” 

Dean does as he’s told. He can’t quite look up to meet his brother’s eyes so he looks down instead and tries to steady his breathing. He really did want to do this, but knives are a touchy subject for both of them and playing with them near the groin was exponentially so. But this is Sam and there isn’t much Dean wouldn’t do to please him, especially when it means he’ll most likely have an outstanding orgasm at some point, the kind of orgasm you wish you had someone to tell about afterwards. 

Sam’s first touch makes him start, but it’s just Sam’s hand stroking his back again, steadying him, anchoring him in the moment. He closes his eyes, heart slowing in rate but still thumping in his chest like the beat of a great drum. 

“Beautiful,” Sam murmurs, his hand trailing down Dean’s back, and then coming around to his chest. Dean expects his nipples to be tweaked but instead there’s just more petting, long, slow, gliding strokes of Sam’s broad, calloused hand, down the front of his body, avoiding his half erect cock and the skin hidden by the silk satin panties, but going over every other part of him, even down to his feet. 

“Sammy…” he protests after a little while, but quietly. 

“Hush,” Sam says. “Let me…” 

The bunker is peaceful around them, the only noise their own breaths, the faint sounds Sam makes as he moves, and the steady, almost inaudible movement of balmy air through the vents. The world falls away until Dean is half dozing on his feet, his body swaying to follow his brother’s warm, strong hands as they smooth away every bit of tension and anxiety. 

Finally, the petting slows and then stops, though Sam leaves one hand on his shoulder. Dean hears the faint metallic sound of Sam picking up the knife. His eyes open reflexively, but there is no spike of adrenaline, only a little hitch in his breath and a gentle quickening of his heartbeat. 

“So,” Sam says quietly, looking down into Dean’s eyes. “If you’re still up for this…” 

Dean thinks his brother looks almost as hypnotized as he himself is feeling. For some reason this is comforting. Dean looks down at the pretty knife lit by the golden light of the reading lamps, silver winking and mother of pearl glowing softly. He looks back up at Sam and nods. 

“Yeah, Sammy, go ahead.”

“Okay. Hands up and fingers laced over your head.” 

Dean obeys and feels his cock twitch and harden against the garnet panties. 

The first touch he feels makes him jump slightly, but it’s just Sam’s fingers slipping under the right side of the silk covered waistband, pulling it out some, increasing the pressure against his cock and balls, teasing with the elastic of the leg openings. Then, there’s a bright coldness of steel against the fine skin over his right hip, the flat of that elegant blade, and he shudders. 

Sam keeps his hold on the waistband but takes the blade away and holds it down beside his thigh away from his brother. 

“Dean, be still,” Sam says quietly. 

Dean looks up and their eyes lock. 

“Sorry, Sam.” Dean’s voice is hoarse but calm. He flushes a little more, the color going from cheekbones to the bridge of his nose. There’s a shine in his eyes that makes Sam _want_ then, with a dizzying rush, a volcanic impulse to growl, and bite, and take. Instead, he takes a breath, then says, 

“Yes or no, Dean.” 

Only a little of that heat escapes into his voice but Dean hears it, Sam knows this in the way his eyes dilate and the skin over his shoulders and chest begins to color. 

They smile at each other then, almost laugh. 

“Yes,” Dean says. Then he goes utterly still except for the gentle rise and fall of breath. 

Sam nuzzles his brother’s neck, kisses and gently bites his way down to the gleaming material that covers his groin but does little to hide the swelling flesh behind it. Sam goes to one knee and presses his face against the sleek panties, and rubs, closing his eyes to fully appreciate the scent of Dean’s arousal. 

“Prickles…” Dean says, very quietly.

Sam chuckles low in his throat and presses harder into the fabric, feeling the rasp of his five o’clock shadow as it pushes through the glossy material. Dean makes a noise of wordless protest and encouragement all mixed together, and Sam’s cock leaps in response. He mouths along the firm thickness that is Dean’s dick and feels an answering pulsing and growing heat, and a wet spot blooms dark where the head rests. 

Sam leans back a little, enjoying the view, then brings the blade up and lays the flat of it against the fine skin just above the waistband. Dean takes a deeper breath but otherwise stays perfectly still, so Sam takes hold of the waistband and pulls it farther away so as to fit the blade behind it, edge and tip angled away from his brother’s body and his own fingers. Then, he presses the tip into and through the sleek material.

The fabric resists slightly, then parts with a faint sound as if in protest or regret. The blade gleams as it makes space for itself, bright against the wounded silk satin. Sam takes the blade away and lets the panties go back to rest against Dean’s body. The hole is small, narrow, like a mouth that’s almost closed. Sam puts his own mouth to it and licks into that opening. The fabric tastes vaguely neutral but the skin behind it is delicious. 

Dean groans wordlessly, and then laughs a little, breathless, sounding giddy and untethered. Sam glances up at him but he‘s holding the pose he’d been put in easily. His eyes are half open and so is his mouth, the corners turned up in a soft, half smile. He looks almost as though he were dreaming. 

Sam sighs and swallows hard. This is even better than he’d imagined but he couldn’t have said in words what it is that pleases him so much. Maybe it’s Dean’s eager cooperation, or maybe it’s turning a knife to such a minor violence instead of- His thoughts swerve and curvet away, and he doesn’t resist. He leans his face into Dean’s belly and inhales again and again, letting his brother’s scent fill his senses. 

When he’s steady, he goes back to that tiny opening and licks over and over again, until the fabric there is soaked dark and Dean’s breathing is quickened to panting, until if Sam licks even one more time his brother might lose control and spill all over the floor. That isn’t the plan, so Sam presses one kiss on the wet, reddened skin, kneels back and wills his own aching cock to just wait, damnit! 

“Sammy!” Dean protests. 

“You okay?” Sam asks, kneeling up again, stroking his brother’s thigh and pressing his face against the hip closest to him, inhaling, wondering if he’ll ever get enough of Dean’s scent. 

“Green, Sammy, green! Please, I’m green all over.” 

Sam can’t help laughing at that, and Dean laughs, too, but breathlessly, and it’s like he’s begging but can’t find any more words. 

So, Sam just repeats the pulling out of the waist band, the slipping of the knife behind the fabric and creates another little opening, then another and another and another, until the gorgeous fabric is mortally wounded. Each new hole needs to be kissed and licked through, the skin underneath nibbled and softly bitten, until Sam doesn’t know which of them is more entranced, which of them is more deeply under the spell of the knife and its power over the garnet panties. 

Sam works his way all the around from one side to the other, and finally only the front is left whole. There the material has darkened with precome until it’s more maroon than garnet, and Dean’s dick has swollen until it’s pushing the panties away from his body and peeping half out of the top. It’s also dark, flushed full of blood, and stiff, the head gleaming with wetness, so gorgeous that Sam wants to swallow it whole and drink. But that isn’t the plan either, and though he’s seriously tempted to say “fuck the plan,” he reins in his impatience with a groan of his own. 

“Like what you see?” Dean manages to say. 

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sam responds, and bites his own lip, hard. 

“Could I, would you let me try this sometime?” 

Sam closes his eyes and bites his lip even harder. 

“Sure, Dean, you can do this with me sometime, but if I think about that for even another second I’m going to blow.” 

“N-no blowing yet, Sam,” Dean manages to say, then laughs under his breath. “Such a slut.” 

“Takes one to know one, jerk,” Sam says, absently, trying to think about anything other than Dean with a knife and himself in disposable clothing. 

“Get back to work, bitch,” Dean says, still kind of half laughing, but the laughter is full of need. 

“Ooh! That’ll cost you!” Sam growls, and, puts his arms tight around his brother’s hips, he sets his teeth into the soft skin just above one hip bone and bites down hard. 

Dean makes a plaintive keening which turns into a shout but Sam doesn’t let up until he feels his brother start to shake. He loosens the grip of his teeth and licks away the sting, then, just as Dean’s starting to relax, bites him again. This time the shout is immediate but Dean stands still for it, doesn’t resist or protest, and Sam’s the one who has to stop because, again, he’s too close to coming. 

Sam pulls back and admires the red and white marks of his teeth, the way Dean’s whole body trembles as he tries to breathe steadily and fails, the anguished but ecstatic, delighted breathy sounds that he can’t keep back. Sam kisses over the bites and nuzzles his brother’s belly and lower until Dean’s steady again. Then, with a Herculean effort, he looks away from that delectable cock begging to be eaten and turns his attention back on the near-ruined panties. 

Sam has left the elastics alone so that even though the garment is mostly destroyed it still clings to Dean’s hips, outlining the lower half of his dick and the roundness of his balls. Sam glances up at the map table, sets the knife down on it out of the way but still within easy reach. 

“Dean, how are your arms?” 

“T-tired but okay.” 

Sam stands and, going behind his brother, he takes each of Dean’s wrists in his hands and gently lowers them to his sides. Dean sighs with relief and leans back a little. Sam obliges him, slipping his arms around him, his hands going to his chest and (finally!) tweaking each erect nipple until Dean shudders and writhes and makes wordless noises that don’t mean stop but almost. Sam lets up then, drawing his brother’s back snug against his own chest and bracing himself so that Dean can be certain of solid support. Then he reaches down into the front of the tattered panties. 

At the first touch of Sam’s hands on his brother’s cock they groan in harmonic unison. Wetness runs under Sam’s fingers and over his knuckles, turning the fine hot skin slick and slippery. Dean was always so wet… Sam nuzzles into Dean’s neck, closing his eyes and taking one deep breath after another, licking and kissing and lightly biting the skin that’s within reach, softly rippling the fingers of one hand along Dean’s hot dick while the other cups and rubs the tightened skin over his balls. The silk satin is so wet it clings to the back of his hand and every movement of his hand makes it slide over and against the flesh beneath. 

Then, just when Sam knows Dean will come if he doesn’t stop, Sam stops. 

Dean groans and begs, “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy-“ but doesn’t otherwise protest. 

“Two more cuts,” Sam says, and Dean nods. 

Sam steadies him against his own body, then reaches out one long arm and picks up the knife. “Hold still.” 

Dean doesn’t freeze but settles in the pliant way of a young tree in breathless air. Sam takes hold of the elastics of the waistband and the left leg in his left hand, cuts through both with one stroke, then he does the same with the other leg. 

The panties flutter to the floor, forgotten. Sam barely remembers the knife in his hand but he somehow manages to get it back on the table. 

Sam knows he should be paying attention to where Dean’s cock is aimed but honestly he just doesn’t care anymore. He wants, he _needs_ Dean to come, he’s desperate for it, to shatter what little of his brother’s composure remains and bring him to release. 

The world, the bunker, the room, it’s all narrowed down to them, to their breaths coming fast and faster, the quickening pulse of their hearts, the heat of their bodies mingling and growing. Sweat runs down between them where they’re braced broad chest to strong back. Dean’s head falls back on his shoulder and Sam kisses his cheek almost absently as he works his one hand stripping his brother’s cock and the other gripping him by the skin of his balls or teasing him by raking the smooth place between them with blunt nails. 

Dean makes a wordless sound, a plea, a warning, and reaches up to grab onto Sam’s upper arms. Sam stands firm as a rock for him even though his muscles are burning with the effort it takes to keep his brother upright. Dean’s fingers close like vices, and Sam laughs low and delighted in his brother’s ear, then says, 

“Three…” 

Dean groans and makes an abortive movement as though about to struggle, then stays where he is. 

“Two…”

Sam’s lips find the lobe of Dean’s ear and he nips at it, sucks that delicious, innocent bit of flesh into his mouth. His brother shivers all over, then stills again. Sam had been stroking him base to tip but now he puts his fingers exactly where Dean had touched him before and made him come, that sensitive bundle of nerves just below the head. Dean inhales a ragged breath. 

“One.” 

Sam’s fingers close in a snug pinch around that bundle of nerves, then twist. Dean exhales as though he’s been punched, and comes. 

Dean came so hard he all but blacked out. He’s empty, a shell of being around a hush of nothingness that hums and rings and vibrates yet is entirely silent. He’s dimly aware of Sam’s arms like iron bands around him, one of Sam’s hands gentle on his still spasming dick and the other supporting his balls. His head is spinning, his vision dark and little spots of light drift by like sparks from a fire. 

Sam’s voice buzzes in his ear and against his head. He’s saying something, one or two words, repeated calmly but insistently: 

“Breathe, Dean. Breathe…” 

Dean sucks in a huge breath, then another and he’s mostly back to himself, feet cold on the wood floor, his brother steady behind him like a wall of blood-warm marble. His head’s still a bit light and his extremities tingle as though they’ve been asleep. 

“Hey, Dean, you with me?” Sam’s asking. 

Dean shakes his head slowly, then says, “Yeah, no… yeah… I guess so… Wow…” 

Sam shakes and it’s like a small earthquake. For a moment Dean’s vaguely concerned, then he realizes Sam’s laughing. 

“Okay, good to know,” Sam says. “I’m going to sit you down in this chair, okay? I want to get you some water-“ 

Dean turns in Sam’s arms, wincing a little at the loss of his brother’s hands on his privates and also at how incredibly _too much_ any contact there is right now. The rest of him, though, is not at all ready to let go. 

“No,” is all he can say, and he leans against Sam again, winds his arms around his waist, puts his face into the crook of his neck and nuzzles him shamelessly. “Sammy. That was incredible. Thank you.” 

Sam holds him quietly, stroking his hair a little, and says, “You were amazing, Dean. Just perfect.” 

Dean wishes he could stay snuggled up like this forever but his legs start wobbling and he’s getting cold despite Sam’s furnace-like heat. He wants to say something but can’t, but that doesn’t matter because Sam’s steering him backwards to a chair, sitting him down in it and taking off his own warm flannel shirt to sling over Dean’s shoulders. Then, Sam’s gone, then back again with a bottle of water and a blanket. 

“Cold,” Dean manages, and Sam says, “Yes, I know.”

Sam drapes the blanket over his shoulders, pulls him up out of the chair just long enough to settle it around him, then lets him sit again. Sam holds the opened bottle of water to his lips. 

“Drink.” 

Dean steadies the bottle as Sam helps him take a few long sips, then the bottle is set aside on the map table and the blanket’s tucked around him more closely. A moment after that, a square of chocolate appears in Sam’s fingers. 

“Eat this,” Sam says, and obediently Dean opens up and lets Sam pop it into his mouth. 

Dean’s overwhelmed by the rich sweetness but it seems to be exactly what’s needed because the fuzz in his head begins to recede and he’s able to sit up properly with some confidence. 

Sam eyes him carefully, then nods to himself before picking something up off the floor and holding it up so Dean could see it. 

It ‘s the remains of the garnet silk satin panties, now reduced to scraps. 

“Man, you owe me for those,” Dean says without rancor, and grins up at his brother. 

“I’ll buy you ten pairs in all the colors,” Sam says, twirling the rag on one index finger and grinning back. “How about pink and purple leopard spots? Checks in lime green and silver? Orange and black houndstooth? Oh! I know- RAINBOW PLAID.” 

“Rainbow plaid? Seriously?” Dean makes a show of shuddering with distaste. “Sammy, I’m an haute couture guy all the way so, nothing like that. Besides, do you have any idea how much these little numbers cost? ‘Cause we’re gonna go broke supporting your habit.” 

“OUR habit, Dean, and don’t we still have the bottomless credit card? Or maybe we should just get a throw away for this… Hm…” 

“Stop thinking so hard. You’re harshing my buzz,” Dean complains. He pulls the blanket around him a bit more snugly. “Is there any more chocolate?” 

“Yeah, of course. Lots,” Sam says, turning to the map table and breaking off another square. “You should drink more water, too.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You are such a bossy pants.” 

“You love it.”

“Well, sure! Who else is gonna top me like a pro and not charge me an arm and a leg for it?” 

“You’ll get my bill in the mail, chump,” Sam states. “Eat. Drink.” 

Dean eats the chocolate, drinks a little more water. The bunker is peaceful and if that wooden chair had been at all comfortable Dean would have dozed right off but the chocolate’s working on him and he notices that Sam’s still half hard and has that sort of nervous energy about him that means he could go again with only a bit of encouragement. Dean believes in encouragement of that sort, thinks it sets a good precedent for later activities. He begins to consider what he might do to turn his little brother into a volcano again. 

“So, you wanna cut another pair offa me sometime?” Dean asks, feeling both brash and diffident about the subject. 

“I’ll cut more than panties off you, if you let me.” 

There was a heat in Sam’s voice and a glitter in his eyes that makes Dean want to squirm with excitement but, with an effort, he keeps that visceral response mostly hidden. 

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” Dean looks up at him from under his lashes and Sam blushes. “So, where are we vacationing?” 

“Oh, right!” Sam turns his attention to the table. “Huh.” 

“Come on, don’t keep me hangin’.” 

“Well…” 

“SAM.” 

“According to that damned impressive shot of yours we’re going to New Zealand.” 

“What? No!” Dean blanches at the thought of flying. “Hey, you could have aimed me better. Like how about Florida?”

“It’s not my fault you came like a porn star,” Sam says, then grins. “Well, maybe it is-“

“Little brother, this is all your fault and we are NOT going to New Zealand even if it is hobbit land. Gimme a sec and we’ll try for something a bit closer to home.”

**Not Nebraska - Part 3**

_Authored by Valkyrie69_

Sam’s grin widens and the mellow arousal still coursing through his veins heats up a few degrees.

He can’t quite believe that Dean is up for another round this soon, but he sure won’t hold him back if his big brother wants to give it a try. 

Sam looks over at Dean where he’s sprawled more bonelessly than the wooden chair should allow as he tips the bottle back for another long drink of water poured carelessly into his half-opened mouth. Sam’s eyes follow a trickle of liquid as it escapes the corner of his brother’s lazy smile and leaves a glistening trail to his chin.

_‘Sinful’_ is the only word that springs to mind, and Sam feels his gut tighten as he imagines Dean’s shining lips stretched wide around his own shaft. _‘Fuck.’_

The knife play had been all he imagined it could be and he certainly doesn’t want to be selfish now and demand more of Dean, but _damn_ if his brother doesn’t look thoroughly fuckable right now. Pliant and relaxed and utterly gorgeous.

He clears his throat surreptitiously and fights to pry his gaze off Dean’s fingers which are currently being licked clean of the last vestiges of the chocolate bar Dean finished with a satisfied groan.

“How’re you feeling?”

Dean’s eyes are clear and bright but softer than usual, smoothing out all the crow’s feet at their corners. He smiles crookedly as he holds Sam’s gaze and speaks quietly.

“Good, Sammy, really great.” After a short pause he continues. “Never knew you were _that much_ into the….uhm….panty thing.”

Sam shrugs, slightly embarrassed at being called out.

“Not usually….but with you…it’s….different.”

Sam never spoke about this to anyone. He really hasn’t spent a lot of time even thinking about it. _It’s hot on Dean. Period. That’s enough._

“Why?” Dean inquires, face an open question mark, as if Sam spoke the thought out loud.

Aware of how rare it is to have Dean so unguarded, Sam suppresses his impulse to make a joke and move on. Instead, he takes a moment to consider his answer thoroughly.

“Because, uhm, of the contradiction, I guess?” His first attempt to put his thoughts into words sounds unsure. Dean lifts one eyebrow but doesn’t speak. Sam leans against the map table and scratches at his stubble, stirring up the lingering scent of Dean where he had rubbed against him awhile ago. The flurry of smell combined with the memory emboldens him and he continues to explain. 

“You’re one badass hunter, Dean. Best on the planet. You’re powerful and dangerous. You dish out and pack away all kinds of hurt. We’ve been through so much and you stood up to whatever fucking horror show the universe ever threw at us without a second thought for your own well being. But, then here you are, appreciating something so delicate and fragile as those satin panties. That contradiction….thinking of you taking some vamp’s head clean off with _one_ swing of your blade while your ass is covered in silk or lace…..’s fucking hot.”

“ _Fine_ ass,” Dean drawls and unleashes his most lascivious smile on Sam.

“What?”

“…while my _fine_ ass is covered in silk or lace….” Dean clarifies, teeth bright white as he flashes a slightly predatory grin.

Sam busts up laughing.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.” Dean waggles his eyebrows comically which earns him an epic eye roll from Sam.

“But I do give you that.” Sam stops laughing and pins Dean with a suggestive stare. “Your ass _is_ _fine.”_

Dean’s smile turns warm and genuine at the compliment, making his eyes crinkle at the corners, Sam’s very favorite look on his brother – only rivaled by the deadly, calm and self-assured way Dean looks when he means business - of _any_ kind.

Recognizing how hard fought and how rare their current state of complete honesty and acceptance is, Sam allows himself the luxury of fully enjoying these moments.

It seems that their epic history of good intentions and unintended consequences when it came to acting in each other’s best interest is finally a thing of the past. Those clashes of wills threatened to break them apart on several occasions, sometimes almost permanently, but they’ve talked more openly during the last few months than in the previous ten years combined. Lately, they call each other on their bullshit and try to give each other perspective and lift each other up whenever necessary.

Most importantly they’re in it together. Completely. And if the world fucking ends tomorrow at least they have _this. Here. Now._

Sam lets go of his wandering thoughts and focuses back on Dean’s still-smiling face.

“Sooooo,” Sam hedges, “how about you get your _fine_ ass over here and we’ll go for best outta three on finding a vacation spot?”

*****

Dean barks a short laugh and takes a moment to soak in the heat of his brother’s spotlight gaze currently trained on him. A delicious tingle crawls up his spine.

Sam might have just taken him completely apart in ways he didn’t even know were possible and he would never admit to wanting out loud but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna step down from a challenge.

He can also be honest enough with himself to acknowledge that there’s nothing quite like his brother’s absolute and undivided attention on him. Sam’s intense need to take care of _him._ To be able to completely give over control to Sam and just enjoy the ride, the closeness, the mindless need - in the certainty that they are safe together, at least for the moment.

Dean rises to his feet, leaving the blanket behind in the chair, and is pretty impressed that he’s no longer wobbly. He just feels calm, at peace and self-assured in what he needs right the fuck now.

‘ _More of Sam.’_

He steps up close between Sam’s long legs and snakes his head forward to catch Sam’s lower lip between his teeth. He hears Sam’s hitching breath at the unexpected forwardness and is pleased with the reaction. Running his tongue along the edge of caught flesh and letting a hungry sound rise from his throat, Dean can sense Sam’s shivered response. He releases Sam’s lip just as abruptly and turns to go.

“I think you graduated to something more sophisticated, Sammy,” Dean calls back over his shoulder.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is pure confusion as he watches his brother walk away wearing nothing but Sam’s slightly too large flannel shirt.

“Just wait there. I’ll be right back. And believe me, it’ll be worth the wait.”

Dean disappears around the corner of the hallway leading to the bunker’s sleeping quarters. He holds the shirt tightly around his naked form and hurries to his room.

There he’s quick to shed Sam’s shirt, clean up a little, grab a necessary item out of his duffle and pick something out of the back corner of his bottom drawer. A long, satisfied sigh escapes him and his nipples pebble at the tantalizing feel of sliding into the thing he just unearthed.

He smiles to himself as he gets it situated just right and spares a quick, rare glance at himself in the mirror over the sink to make sure he still likes it.

“Yup, still awesome.” Dean smoothes his hands appreciatively over the fine material.

He bought it with the thought of using it for a special occasion, even though Dean had no idea what could qualify as such in their screwed-up lives. After awhile, Dean amended his plan, thinking that he should wear it to some especially perilous fight or end-of-the-world battle because that at least promised to result in an adrenaline fueled “we’re still alive” fuck. They’d had their share of those lately, the fights and the fucks, but it turns out that type of “special occasion” rarely comes with an invitation or advance notice, so the item had yet to be christened. 

Today is as good a day as any. Actually, with their afternoon spent reminiscing about Rhonda Hurley followed by diving into a whole new kinky side of Sam’s psyche and the fact they are for once and for awhile completely alone in the bunker, Dean decides this is the _perfect_ day to bring out the big guns and give Sam a little treat.

Dean has always felt secure in his sexuality and even though he doesn’t regularly make a connection between that and his own appearance, he _knows_ he looks damned good in this thing and doesn’t regret having paid a freaking king’s ransom for it.

He grabs the other item and Sam’s shirt in one hand and strides, barefoot and mostly naked, out of the room.

*****

Sam fidgets. Still leaning against the map table, he picks at its edge with a fingernail and his knee jiggles with unspent energy. He feels a little silly dressed in nothing but his Saxx and the blanket he picked up from Dean’s chair and slung around his shoulders, but no matter what Dean has planned, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to get dressed.

His mind wanders back to what just happened - what Dean had just allowed to happen - and he shakes his head in disbelief while his dick takes renewed interest at the memory.

_Jesus, fuck, he almost creamed himself several times just touching Dean like that, bringing Dean to such a high and getting to experience Dean’s total release. Damned miracle he didn’t come untouched, really._

His thoughts are interrupted by the soft scuff of a bare foot on the concrete floor just beyond the doorway.

“’Bout time,” Sam calls. “I was ready to…..” the rest of his words are snuffed out by the huff of air expelled from his lungs as if someone punched him in the solar plexus.

Sam feels his eyes widen, his jaw goes slack and his brain ceases all activity other than the ocular intake. 

_Dean. Looks. Stunning._

Not that Sam didn’t know that already. Dean’s all lean, lithe muscle lately, trim and fit, erasing most signs of age or hard living. His strong shoulders, defined pecs and abs, powerful thighs, and round calves are all clearly ready for action at a moment’s notice judging by the way he saunters across the open space towards Sam with supreme confidence – absolutely smoldering with sex.

What blows Sam’s mind is how all that creamy-skinned, fighting-weight, gorgeously muscled brother of his is made even hotter because of the exquisite lingerie he’s currently wearing.

A hand’s breadth wide band of black lace hugs each side of Dean’s hips just below the bone held in place by a slim satin waistband. His cock is cradled in a pouch of more of the see-through material, leaving very little to the imagination. Fine leaf and scrollwork along with a few flowers make up the pattern of the delicate lace, yet the cut and fit on Dean leave no doubt that these are not surreptitiously bought women’s panties.

By the way Dean moves, all liquid grace and dangerous power of a wolf on the prowl, Sam can read that his brother damned well knows how incredible he looks.

He must have bought these panties because of that, to show off, to treat himself and Sam to something special.

Sam’s eyes are glued to Dean’s groin and the elegant shape of the panties as they cling revealingly to his brother’s form and stretch enticingly as he moves. He thinks he can see Dean’s cock twitch under his laser focus and saliva suddenly floods his mouth at the thought of tasting Dean through the lace.

His own dick’s rapidly rising demand for attention finally breaks his trance. Sam draws in a ragged breath and blinks his eyes a few times to get them lubricated after staring for too long.

“Fuck, Dean.” Sam breathes.

Dean’s smile is quiet and pleased as he drops Sam’s shirt on the discarded chair.

“Told ya, little brother. Well worth the wait.” He stops just out of reach of Sam’s long arms.

Sam swallows thickly and grates out, “Turn.” 

Volcanic heat flashes in Dean’s eyes and he complies, slowly turning on the spot.

Watching Dean’s ass scantily but snuggly covered in more of the delicate fabric passing review in front of him, Sam can’t decide if he likes the front or back better. It’s by far the hottest piece of clothing he has ever seen on anyone, period. He can’t believe his luck that he’s getting to see it on his brother.

“Wow,” Sam whispers hoarsely.

Dean chuckles warm and low.

“That’s right, Sammy, use all your big words.”

Sam can hear the satisfied note in his brother’s teasing and, when he finally manages to pry his eyes from the show below Dean’s waist to light on Dean’s face instead, his heart warms at the pride and adorable smugness he finds there. 

“Haute couture, huh? Who knew you would start with lingerie?” Sam laughs a little breathlessly.

“Well, one thing’s for damn sure, you won’t get a knife of any kind close to these. They were too fucking expensive.”

Dean lets his hands rest protectively over his cock for a moment before smoothing them across his hips and ass.

“Wouldn’t dream of destroying those.” Sam takes another appreciative glance, molten heat pooling in his own groin at the delicious sight. “They look too fucking good on you. Where’d you get them?”

Dean shrugs nonchalantly but Sam can see him practically preening on the inside. He loves to be able to pay his brother a well-deserved compliment and not be rebuked for it.

“Online. I was bored. Googled around.”

Sam chuckles, voice deepening and getting rougher.

“Research, huh? Gotta tell you, man, if _this_ is the result, you should do research _way_ more often.”

Sam is delighted to see a faint blush color his brother’s cheeks now, but he also knows that he’s getting very close to the end of Dean’s patience for compliments. ~~~~

“Yeah, well, turns out _some_ of it can actually be fun.”

“I’d say.“ Sam bites his lip. “How long have you been holding out on me, Dean?”

Sam is careful to let only the faintest note of reproof color his voice, but he can tell by his brother’s deepening color and the barely-noticeable shift of his hips that he hit the nail on the head. Predictably, Dean’s expression changes quickly from slight embarrassment to defiant mischief and Sam loves that, too. There’s nothing hotter than Dean being confident in all his sexual glory - not that he could ever frame that statement in spoken words.

Dean’s chin juts forward, cocky and challenging.

“You weren’t ready for ’em, Sammy. Had to earn them.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to flush with both pleasure and pride over earning Dean’s approval. 

“And now I have?”

“You have.” 

Dean’s wolfish grin makes the fine hair on Sam’s neck stand at attention and his dick fatten up some more. Suddenly it doesn’t matter what Dean has planned. Sam doesn’t care who tops who or who chooses to bottom. He needs Dean any way he can get him. His throat is too dry to answer, but it turns out there’s no need to.

“But enough of that….,” Dean rumbles and takes the last few steps towards Sam very deliberately and with a little sway to his hips, which snaps Sam’s eyes southwards again to take note of his brother’s hardening cock. When he reaches him, Dean steps in close to Sam’s body and lays his hands loosely on Sam’s bare waist, thumbs slipping just under the edge of the boxer briefs and drawing along the sharp cut V of his groin. He leans in and speaks so close to Sam’s ear that his lips brush along the shell.

“Now that you got my fine ass in lace, Sammy, what’re ya gonna do with it, hmm?”

Sam’s skin pebbles as the heated moisture of Dean’s breath caresses him. He closes his eyes at the sensation and lets his hands glide around Dean’s hips to his tight ass, rubbing slow circles over the round cheeks and thrilling at the feel of the incredibly soft lace under his palms, and Dean’s warm smooth flesh just beyond.

“Jesus, _fuck_ , Dean….” Sam shivers as Dean’s tongue traces the swirls of his ear. “Feels amazing.”

“Doesn’t it?” Dean agrees and presses in a little closer rubbing their hardening lengths together lazily, enjoying the drag and perfect mellow friction between the performance material of Sam’s Saxx and exquisite fabric of his own panties.

Sam’s hands tighten on Dean’s ass and his nails dig little half moons into his skin just below the bottom edge of the expensive cloth, causing Dean to hiss in a sharp breath.

“Your choice.” Sam murmurs as he pushes harder into all of Dean’s attentions.

“Hhhmmm?” Dean inquires and drags his stubbled cheek slowly along Sam’s long neck, following the trail with small bites and wet kisses.

“Your….your choice.” Sam’s starting to lose focus as the sensations intensify and his need for Dean spreads through him like dry brush set alight. He’s determined to get his point across to Dean, though, dead set on making sure Dean gets what he needs.

“What do you _want_ me to do with your fine, lace-covered ass?”

Dean hums, signaling his consideration of the question and the noise sends a vibration through the thin skin behind Sam’s ear where Dean’s lips are currently resting. He shivers and lets his head fall back with a long sigh to give better access, earning him a chuckle and soft bite from his brother.

“Always so eager, Sammy.” Dean’s mouth travels from his ear…. “Can’t get started fast enough, huh?” ….across his jaw….. “Gotta be a little patient.” …..to the soft spot under his chin….nipping, licking, kissing….. “Cause I _want_ you….” ….and finally closing over Sam’s half open lips, tongue plunging deep just once. Dean pulls back then just a fraction of an inch keeping their slick lips a breath apart and he murmurs.

“Want you to fuck me over the table, Sammy, with the panties on.”

Dean frames Sam’s face with his strong hands and kisses him with such passion and single-minded focused demand that Sam moans and lets himself drown in it. Dean’s words ringing in his ears, a surge of pure want rushing to his cock, his skin tightening all over his body, his hands clutching hard at Dean’s ass, pulling Dean against him even closer. Just when Sam thinks he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen or blood to his brain, one having been stolen by Dean the other having been forced into his cock with record speed, his brother breaks the kiss. 

*****

They’re both panting now but Dean apparently has better control over himself as he speaks in a low growl.

“Strip, little brother, and lemme show you how good it really feels.”

Dean steps back to make room and Sam doesn’t have to be told twice, yanking the blanket from his shoulders and sending it flying onto the map table with an impatient shake of his arm making it land somewhere inside Russia.

_‘Good, we definitely don’t wanna go there.’_ Dean thinks vaguely as he watches Sam’s slightly uncoordinated scramble.

His eyes take in the generous bulge in Sam’s boxer briefs with skin prickling appreciation. He feels his ass clench in anticipation of what’s to come and he suppresses the urge to beg Sam to simply fuck him without any prep. He still feels so content and relaxed after the experience with the knife that he’s confident he can take it. On the other hand, it’s so rare that they have the bunker to themselves that he’s not willing to waste the occasion.

Stroking his own semi-hard cock through the delicate material, Dean keeps his eyes on Sam’s stiff shaft as it springs free from the tight hold of his Saxx which are being discarded with a quick shove and impatient kick.

Sam straightens up, hair a tousled mess, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and hungry, and holds out a hand to Dean. He steps up without hesitation. Lacing their fingers together, Dean guides his brother’s hand to his hip and slides it around to close over his lace-covered cock. 

“Fuck, Dean, you’re killing me.” Groaning, Sam gives a tight squeeze before he slides his fingers lower to cup Dean’s balls and roll them gently the way he knows his brother enjoys.

Dean lets out such contented sound it’s almost a purr. A smiles tugs at Sam’s lips when he ducks down to kiss Dean slow and deep, all the while letting his hands explore the feel and give of the panties as he tends to Dean’s growing need within them. Dean hums his approval and sucks on Sam’s tongue as his arms wrap around Sam’s shoulders and one hand buries itself in Sam’s hair.

“You’re loving this,” Sam murmurs against Dean’s smiling lips between kisses.

Dean leans back a little and narrows his eyes at him. “Aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding? You never looked hotter and these feel fucking unbelievable.” Sam looks down between them and rubs a thumb across Dean’s crown before teasing the slit with a blunt nail through the gauzy material.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean swears and shudders hard as a pearl of precome oozes through the lace.

Dean claims Sam’s mouth in another scorching kiss while thrusting his hips tight against Sam’s and rubbing their throbbing, flushed flesh together with only the thin barrier of black softness between them. Sam groans harshly at the amazing tickle-scratch of the fine-patterned mesh that sends frissons of electric sparks through his nerves and want slamming into his gut. He grabs onto Dean’s hips and leans against the table behind him to steady them both.

“Fuck me, Sam, come on,” Dean pants as they come up for air again, resting their foreheads together. Dean rakes Sam’s hair behind his ears with both hands.

Sam nods quick and tight. “I will, Dean, but….”

Dean’s low chuckle sounds like gravel cracking under Baby’s tires.

“No but, but mine, Sammy.” 

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam whines and nips at the corner of Dean’s mouth, “lemme suck you first. Please, Dean?”

Dean tightens his hand in Sam’s hair and pulls him back a little to catch his gaze.

“Yeah?”

"Wanted to so bad earlier but also wanted play with the knife. Knife barely won out. Need you to put your cock down my throat _now_ , Dean, please?”

Sam’s pleading tone, not mention the request itself, squeezes Dean’s heart and sets his balls on fire at the same time. Getting a blowjob from Sam is a treat on any day and will always be one of Dean’s favorite things in the world. Knowing that Sam’s actually _begging_ to get Dean’s dick fed to him melts his fucking brain.

“Shit, yeah, yeah, ok, Sammy. Whatever you want.”

Sam smiles almost shyly and kisses him quick and sweet before he pushes Dean back half a step and sinks to his knees in front of him with the map table at his back.

“Christ,” looking down at his brother’s eager face, Dean has to grab himself and steady his breathing for a second, his senses singing with excitement and need.

A moment later Sam’s face scrunches up, knot of worry sudden and pronounced between his brows. “ _Crap_.”

“What?” Dean huffs with mix of impatience and concern in his tone.

“Lube. We need lube, Dean. Dammit.” Sam looks searchingly around the space and under the edge of the table as if to check for a hidden stash of the stuff.

“Way ahead of you, man.” Dean grins and jerks his chin. “Brought some with me. Gimme a sec.”

He turns and walks to the wooden chair, giving Sam another mouthwatering view of pale cheeks through contrasting black lace. When Dean bends down to extricate something from the red, white and black plaid of Sam’s shirt where he dropped it on the way in, Sam groans at the way the fabric captures and outlines Dean’s balls. To keep from going insane and in order to alleviate the throb of want a little Sam, grabs himself and gives a few sharp tugs.

“Shit, Dean, hurry up. ‘M dying here.”

Dean swivels back, holds the economy-sized bottle of lube aloft with a grin before he drags the chair with him on the way back to Sam.

Sam reaches for Dean impatiently and pulls him close with both hands behind Dean’s thighs burying his nose in the crease of Dean’s hip. 

“Hey, careful, dude,” Dean grouses and catches himself on the table’s edge, thrown off balance by Sam’s enthusiasm.

“You look fucking criminal in those,” he says muffled against Dean’s skin. He draws a line with his nose and mouth along Dean’s hard cock through the lace and pulls in a deep breath of his favorite scent. He notices immediately that Dean must have cleaned up some before coming back to him and Sam’s irrationally displeased with the fact that Dean washed away their work from before. But another deep breath and earthy taste later, he lets go of his thoughts and simply enjoys the sensation of the material pulling and catching slightly at his lips, so different from the satin earlier.

When Sam feels Dean wriggle and bend forward above him he opens his eyes to check, if he’s ok.

“What’re ya doing?” Slight irritation creeps into Sam’s voice as he can’t see what Dean is reaching for and really doesn’t think Dean should be this distracted right now.

A moment later the folded blanket thuds down onto the concrete next to him.

“What’s that for?” Sam looks confused.

“Your knees,” Dean smiles down at him without a trace of mockery.

San narrows his eyes and pulls in a quick breath to protest, but Dean continues.

“We’re not getting any younger, Sammy. No shame in a little comfort.”

The complaint gets stuck in Sam’s throat and a lump of appreciation replaces it quickly, accompanied by a flash of guilt over his initial annoyance.

“Thanks,” he croaks and clears his throat.

“Don’t mention it.” Another warm smile from Dean sweeps over him like sunshine.

Sam slides the blanket under his knees and is immediately aware of the _absence_ of pain he hadn’t even registered before. Dean just nods and grins.

“Now, get to work, bitch, before we’re both too old to enjoy it.”

Sam huffs a short laugh and takes ahold of Dean’s slim waist to maneuver him back into position.

“Then stop with the fidgeting, jerk, and let me do this,” Sam grins up at his brother and keeps his eyes glued to Dean’s.

He stretches the panties tight across Dean’s front with his hands and then presses the flat of his tongue to the contoured underside of Dean’s stiff length trapping it against his belly through the gossamer material. Dean pulls in a hard breath and his nostrils flare as he returns Sam’s blazing stare. Sam licks up his shaft with slow, firm pressure a few times before closing his teeth gently around the crown and teasing at his slit through the mesh. The soft netting of the lace tickles across his tongue and lips and allows more of Dean’s taste to seep through it than the satin panties had. Sam’s senses are completely and deliriously filled with Dean and he moans at the all-encompassing feeling, sending an answering tremor through Dean’s limbs and ripping a rolling groan from his chest. Sam watches the green of his brother’s irises slowly being eclipsed by the dark expanse of his pupils and notices his chest rise and fall with increasing speed as he pants above him.

Sam feels that ravenous hunger he has only ever felt for Dean, and, unable to wait another minute, he carefully peels the front of Dean’s panties down and wraps his fingers into a tight fist around his brother’s base. With a deep sound of appreciation for the taste and feel and fullness he’s so looking forward to, Sam slides his mouth down Dean’s cock until his lips meet his fist in one swift move.

“Holy fuck, Sam.” The words are punched out of Dean and he folds forward a little, again grabbing onto the table’s edge and one of Sam’s shoulders for balance desperately hoping his knees won’t give out on him.

Sam keeps his mouth tight around the heft and length of Dean, setting up a slow, languid rhythm with practiced moves. He knows it’s not enough friction or speed to bring Dean to orgasm any time soon so it’s perfect for him to wholly enjoy the shape and texture and stretch of his brother’s cock in his mouth as he works it back deeper.

Dean’s familiar, loved hands are combing through Sam’s shaggy mop, smoothing across his shoulders, bunching in a fistful of hair, resting heavy at the back of his neck and all the while he can hear Dean’s panting breaths, small curses and murmured encouragements above him as he lets his body float on the sensations for a little while.

“Sammy,” Dean’s ragged voice finally pulls him back to the present and he slides off Dean with a wet pop.

“Yeah?” More a rasp than an answer.

Dean holds out the lube to him with a desperate expression. He looks wrecked. Face shining with sweat in the glow of the map table. A deep flush spreading across his cheeks and down his throat. His breath is coming is short, heavy bursts and he sounds hoarse as he pleads, “’S not that I don’t fucking love what you’re doin’, man, but can you multi-task before I blow my load and can’t stay on my feet?” 

“Fuck, sorry, Dean.” Sam grimaces apologetically, feeling guilty as hell for having indulged his own needs for so long when Dean had asked him for something else.

“Nothing to be sorry about. You’re fucking incredible at it.” Dean grins down at Sam with proud approval.

Sam bounces the head of Dean’s dick against his swollen, smiling lips as he answers. “Just can’t get enough of you. Got a little carried away.” He swirls his tongue around the flared tip and then sucks at it gently but doesn’t go any further. Dean’s hand locks down hard on his shoulder and his breath hitches harshly, signaling that he’s wound way tighter than Sam expected.

“ _Sammy_.” Gravelly warning and dark velvet begging all wrapped into one word.

Sam licks his lips, nods. He reaches out and pulls the chair next to him, backrest against the table, before taking the lube from Dean and snicking the lid open.

With a few deep breaths and tightly shut eyes, Dean manages to get his brightly pulsing libido under a modicum of control. He lifts one foot to rest it atop the seat of the chair and watches with a small smile at the way Sam is diligently drizzling the lubricant all over his long, capable fingers, with as much concentration as if he’s handling a dangerous weapon.

He could have happily watched Sam suck him into tomorrow. Hell, he could happily die while Sam sucks his brains out through his cock. He will never tire of the gorgeous view of Sam’s face when he worships him with wide-stretched lips and a blissful expression like Dean is the best goddammed thing he ever had in his mouth. Dean can’t say that it’s not a huge boost to the ego and it’s fucking gospel that his dick has never been happier in anyone else’s mouth.

But he needs something else tonight. He’s eager for it. And he’s got to get the show on the road if he wants to have any chance at being present for it.

Sam looks up at him then, question in his intelligent, multi-hued eyes. Dean smiles, nods and lays a hand on Sam’s cheek for a moment, skating his thumb across the bottom lip and watching Sam’s tongue chase it before his brother bobs his head forward and sucks Dean’s finger deep into his mouth with a growl.

Dean swallows hard and leans down for a quick, hard kiss.

“Please, Sam.”

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t have to. Circling Sam’s wrist with his fingers, Dean leads it between his legs and then behind himself and lifts the scalloped edge of the leg opening to guide Sam’s hand to his ass. Sam runs his other hand up the back of Dean’s thigh, pulling a prickling ripple in its wake, and slips it under the opposite side of Dean’s panties grabbing a handful of his cheek and spreading him slightly.

A breath later Dean feels the cool, slick length of Sam’s index finger slide along his crack seeking his entrance. Dean sighs and gives in to the full-body shiver racing through him before he turns out his knee more to give Sam space to work. His brother doesn’t waste any time, massaging Dean only briefly before sinking his first finger into him completely. Dean groans loud and long, welcoming the burn and pressure of the intrusion.

“Yeah, Sam, that’s it. Fuck, so good.”

Sam starts to work his finger slowly in and out in easy movements, making sure the lube is spread well and does its job. He nuzzles at Dean’s abdomen, kisses and bites at his hip, buries his nose in the crisp short hairs at his base, dips his tongue into his belly button, but completely avoids Dean’s cock to give him a break. Dean lets himself sink into the feeling of Sam’s clever mouth on his skin, the solid shape of his finger massaging inside of him and his brother’s soft hair tangled in his hand where he holds onto him. Breathing deep and pushing the thought of what’s next to the back of his mind, Dean manages to calm his overstimulated nerves.

Still he soon demands, “Sam, need more,” in a voice full of grit and when Sam lifts his eyes to Dean’s for confirmation, he tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and nods. “Go on.”

Keeping his eyes on his brother’s gorgeous green ones, Sam blindly adds another finger, pushing both in with relentless pressure and enjoying the sharp tug on his hair as Dean’s fist tightens in response to the sudden stinging stretch.

Sam knows he should have added more lube but he also knows what Dean is after right now and loves serving Dean’s craving for it… _for him_.

Dean’s eyelids flutter shut, and he bites his lower lip hard before his mouth is forced open slightly by the rough groan escaping him, teeth marks standing out starkly white against his flushed lip for a second. The sights and sounds engulf Sam like cloud of hot steam in the bunker’s showers, gliding lovingly over his skin, making both sweat and gooseflesh break out over his body simultaneously.

“Fuck, Dean, you feel so good,” Sam murmurs into his skin and softly licks along the crease of Dean’s hip. “Smell so fucking good, too. And the fucking panties….look fucking perfect.”

“Hhhm,” Dean agrees in a low rumble and he reaches back and rubs Sam’s hand on his ass through the lace, “told ya. I still got shit to teach you.”

“You sure do, big brother,” Sam chuckles and nips at Dean’s hip bone before sucking a mark into the soft skin below, his need to claim his brother growing more urgent.

Dean fights to relax more, take more, adjust more to aid Sam’s effort of working him open; his fingers flexing, rubbing, stretching him. When two fingers start to feel as easy as one, Dean grunts impatiently and Sam, being fluent in “Dean”, quickly adds lube and then a third finger.

The low wounded sound issuing from Dean’s lips would have scared anyone but Sam who knows how to read his subtext in the cadence and pitch of his tone and doesn’t let up until his fingers are as deep in his brother’s body as they will go.

Dean’s hand clamps onto Sam’s forearm, nails biting into hard muscle, and he screws his eyes shut as he struggles for breath and calm. The harsh stretch sends pleasure zinging through him in a dizzying rush, but he knows this is nowhere near what Sam’s cock will do to him.

“Easy, Dean, I got you,” he hears Sam crooning softly and feels the soothing touch of Sam’s hand on this small of his back. 

When he’s able to make his body relax into the new demand for space, Dean nods and blinks open his eyes. Sam’s smiling face is close, his free hand now large and warm against the side of Dean’s face.

“You good?” Sam asks voice and eyes dark with lust and concern.

“Yeah, Sammy, ‘m awesome.” Dean manages a sloppy grin and shimmies his hips. “Now move. Please.”

Sam rises up on his knees in front of Dean and kisses him quick and hard, already starting to move his fingers again to grant Dean’s plea.

The more he gets the more he wants - that’s always been the truth for Dean when it comes to sex with his brother. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or elaborate, but it’s always honest and free of judgment. You ask, you get. He feels his most brave and his most vulnerable when he’s with Sam and it’s never gotten old. Shifting dominance, pure need, life-affirming comfort, enthusiastic giving and taking all have their place here.

And just like he’s about to get exactly what he craves tonight, he’s not going to let Sam hang without getting what he’d ask for either. 

_‘Not that it’s really a sacrifice to oblige Sam on this.’_

Dean grips his cock, heavy and almost hard again, and he hooks a couple of fingers under Sam’s chin tilting his head up.

“Dean?” Sam asks, the word encompassing a myriad of questions none of which need to be answered right now.

Resting the tip of his cock against his brother’s lips Dean growls softly.

“Open up, Sammy. Not done with you yet.” 

Sam’s eyes go wide as Dean’s words take him by surprise. 

“Yeah?” Sam whispers cautiously, and Dean’s heart contracts, knowing how much Sam loves this and how reluctant he can be to ask for more of it.

“You wannit, right?” Dean inquires seriously. 

“Y-yes, I…fuck, _yes_ Dean, always, but I thought –“ 

Dean interrupts with a smile and another tap of his cock to Sam’s lips.

“Then…open up, little brother.” 

Dean watches Sam blush fiercely below. With his eyes glued to Dean’s Sam licks his lips once and then opens his mouth wide without another word.

“Shit, Sam,” Dean can’t find anything more adequate to describe the awe and appreciation he has for his brother’s insatiable eagerness for this… _for him_. No matter how long they’ve been together, no matter the hardships and fights and misunderstandings, they never stopped wanting the other with an all-consuming fire, needing the other to make them whole. That alone is worth everything, is worth fighting for and taking on the whole fucking universe for – even God.

Dean swipes the hair off Sam’s face and gathers it in one hand behind his head keeping a gentle hold of his brother with a loose grip. He guides him forward and playfully paints his brother’s lips with a smear of precome before carefully sliding his cock into Sam’s mouth on the proffered cradle of his tongue.

Both moan at the blissful perfection as they connect with the other. 

Dean feeds Sam his entire length slow and steady, giving Sam time to breathe and adjust and open for him. When he feels Sam’s throat convulse around his head he pulls back and after Sam draws in a sharp breath he pushes forward again. They don’t do this often but their deep-seated familiarity with each other’s body language lets them set up a slow and easy rhythm almost instantly, like a beautiful, practiced, deliberate dance.

“Fuck, Sammy, so good for me. Look so fucking hot.”

Dean’s breathing hard with the strain of keeping absolute control of each action and not drown in the onslaught of sensation. Sam’s fingers digging and flexing in his ass every time he grinds back onto them combined with the insane wet heat and pressure of Sam’s incredible mouth engulfing him makes Dean want to let go and fly. At the same time, he is terrified to hurt Sam, choke him or miss any signs of panic, so he keeps close watch on his brother and an iron-clad grip on his own surging desire, which only winds him higher. His heart hammers like it could break free of his chest.

Dean’s entire body trembles with the effort to go slow, be gentle, keep the ebb and flow even.

His will is taxed even further the longer he takes in Sam’s ecstatic face – his eyes are watering but heavy lidded with evident pleasure, all lines on his face smoothed out in relaxation and his nostrils are flared as Dean keeps thrusting deep but controlled down his throat. 

Dean is again impressed at his brother’s ability to so blissfully have his cock in his throat while still keeping up the steady rhythm with his fingers in Dean’s ass. He can feel the active push and pull and pressure of Sam massaging his inner walls and tight entrance leaving no doubt that Sam is fully aware of all that’s going on.

When Dean’s finally skating the knife’s edge of losing control and fucking Sam’s mouth in earnest, he pulls back slowly and slides free. His cock glistening with Sam’s spit, flushed dark red and positively thrumming in time with the frantic rhythm of his heart.

“Sammy,” Dean grits out between clenched teeth, desperately holding onto the base of his weighty, rock-hard length and his almost overwhelming need to come.

Sam blinks his eyes a few times before focusing on Dean.

“What?” he means to say, but Dean only hears a croak and winces in sympathy.

“Sammy, I…. _please_. You gotta fuck me… _now.”_ Dean pushes out between heaving breaths.

He flexes his fingers in Sam’s hair once and clenches his ass around Sam’s still buried fingers. Dean’s other hand comes up to trail reverently around Sam’s abused lips and wipe down his chin. 

“Can’t wait any more…” Dean manages, then adds with a tight smile, “You’re too good.”

Instantly alert, Sam extricates himself from Dean’s body and then clambers to his feet with some effort and a few huffs of pain.

“Cm’ere.” He wraps a strong arm around Dean’s back and kisses him in a wet tangle of tongues and teeth and lips. Dean grabs onto Sam’s waist and moans at the taste of himself in Sam’s mouth but then pushes free of his brother and turns his back on him. He plants his hands on the map table and steps wide leaning forward a little as if expecting to be frisked. 

“ _Now_ , Sam.” Dean’s voice is so deep with desire and need it’s almost subsonic, and sends a bone deep shiver through him in response. 

“Fucking Christ, Dean,” Sam swears and crowds in close behind his brother’s bent-over form. “Wish you could see yourself.”

Sam’s hands stroke from Dean’s shoulders to his ass and back up his lean sides. He spans his brother’s ribs for a moment, slotting his fingers into the faintly outlined valleys between them and then slides them forward and up his chest to tweak his nipples. Dean closes his eyes and relishes the warmth and slightly rough texture of Sam’s large hands gliding all over his skin again. It grounds him and keeps him present like nothing else can.

“So gorgeous, Dean, offering yourself to me like that.”

Sam’s cock rests heavy and full along the cleft of Dean’s ass. Dean presses back and tilts his hips so the black lace covering him rubs along Sam’s sensitive skin and pulls a groan of surprise from deep in his chest.

When Sam lifts the edge of the panties and slides his leaking head under it and along Dean’s cheek, Dean reaches behind himself and cups his hand around Sam’s cock trapping it under the lace and rubbing it slowly through it. Sam’s brain’s stuttering at the sight and feel of his deeply flushed, diamond-hard dick being embraced by the expensive textile and he suddenly understands with crystal clarity what Dean loves so much about it. It’s dirty and luxurious and hot and beautiful all at once and so very different from anything else deemed normal for them.

“Oh, ungh, shit, Dean.” Sam’s voice is high and tight. “Stop, fuck, ‘s too good…’m not gonna last.”

“Told ya,” Dean pants but still manages to grin over his shoulder. “Now fuck me already….need it.”

Sam groans again, this time sounding almost pained, and Dean grins some more at the power his commanding voice has over Sam.

The smile slips from his face quickly, however, when Sam takes careful hold of the crotch of the panties and moves it to the side, constricting Dean’s cock and balls under the tightening and stretching fabric and sending a sizzling current of sparks into the tight coil of want in his belly. 

Dean hears the snick of the container of lube, Sam must have opened it with his teeth, seeing as how he can’t let go of the panties, and suddenly shivers at the cool and copious drizzle sliding between his cheeks. Next a squelching sound reaches his ears that conjures up the image of Sam’s long cock sliding wetly through his own fist. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, readying himself and tilting back a little more at an angle he knows will help him take everything Sam’s about to give him.

Without another word Sam lines up and breaches Dean with excruciating, slow precision, halting for a moment just inside and then driving home until he’s fully sheathed in one steady move.

Dean can’t quite bite back the broken sound shredding his throat and fights to breath evenly.

Pain flares from the point of entry and shoots up his spine, jagged fingers like lightening, but pleasure is hitching an equal ride and smoothing out the edges into the most welcome and mind-bending sensation of lightness and possibility.

Pain doesn’t mean danger here as in so many other situations in their lives. Pain means freedom now. Freedom to let go, not hold back, forget about boundaries and just _be_.

Sam pins him in place, solid line of intent at his back, reminding him that he can always count on that in any situation. Being stuffed full to bursting and completely cocooned by Sam is the ultimate high for Dean.

A moment of such overwhelming gratitude for his brother threatens to create a vacuum in his lungs and Dean draws in a huge ragged breath in to keep the sneaky sob at bay.

“Sssshhh, Dean, ‘s ok. I got you.” Sam’s right there, kisses his neck, his shoulder, the top nob of his spine.

The world is fucking nuts right now. Odds have never been stacked higher against them, but Dean doesn’t care.

_THIS_ is real. _THIS_ he understands. _THIS_ will always be theirs.

He grits his teeth and rolls his hips in encouragement and Sam responds immediately with a moan and small countermove of his pelvis. They’re pressed together as tightly as they can be, Sam draped over Dean’s back, arms bracketing Dean’s, balls and belly glued to Dean’s ass. And finally, finally, Sam starts to move.

Slow at first. Shallow undulation of his hips, making space for himself, carving a hollow into Dean. And Dean relaxes, opens and welcomes him, like he always does.

Soon, Sam straightens behind him, one hand holding the panties out of the way and spreading him, one hand curled around his hip, fingers pressing deep, seeking leverage. He picks up speed and Dean braces himself on the table, fierce joy at Sam’s strength washing over and through him.

He craves to be split open, impaled and fucked raw all the while feeling cherished and loved. Only Sam has ever been able to give him that. He wants to carry the memory with him for days, feel Sam’s care and devotion with every move, let it remind him of what’s real in this world. He pushes back harder with a guttural grunt.

“Christ, Dean, you’re so fucking tight, feel unbelievable.” Sam’s voice is a staccato matching his snapping hips as he drills into Dean fast and hard. “Can’t…hold… back…much…longer…”

Dean groans an affirmative, “Then don’t, Sammy,” his arms straining to hold himself upright under the force of Sam’s thrusts, his cock and balls held even firmer by the taut lace of the panties. Shocky bursts of pleasure skittering through him, making it hard to think.

Sam suddenly changes rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in at a different angle and Dean cries out as Sam skids across his prostate. Collapsing down onto his elbows, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at the lit tabletop, Dean blinks the stars from his vision and then the next hit comes and fireworks explode behind his lids once more as his entire roiling core is set on fire. One of Sam’s hands grasps the juncture between his neck and shoulder, holding him steady, providing support. Again and again and again Sam nails his prostate with the same insanely accurate aim he has shooting his Taurus PT92.

Dean feels himself losing track of details, of time, his brain melding together his humming skin, rasping nerves, silent cries, grasping muscles and building the quiet thrum of ecstasy into a cacophony of sensation.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Sam’s voice floats like a chant above it all, sweet and sure and strong.

Dean can hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears like a herd of galloping mustangs, sees his sweat drip from his brow onto Mexico, feels his cock twitching wildly as if trying to break free of its lacy bonds and he dimly recognizes the signs of the gathering orgasm as he barrels towards it.

_There is something….there was….didn’t they….._

“Sammy, fuck, Sam,” he slaps a hand onto the map table roughly in Brazil. “Stop.”

Sam’s hips stutter at Dean’s urgent tone and his voice is almost unrecognizable, scratchy and harsh, as he speaks.

“What….the….fuck, Dean, please…..’m s-so close.”

His strong fingers dig scalding imprints into Dean’s hip and shoulder and Dean latches onto that pain to clear his muddled brain.

He heaves himself onto his hands and tries to catch his breath.

“Vacation, Sammy, vacation.”

“’R you…fucking….insane?” Sam sounds incredulous and slightly unhinged as he thrusts hard into Dean again.

Fine tremors are shaking through Dean’s frame and his balls are so tight and full it’s hard to concentrate on cohesive speech, but determination in the face of adversity is one of Dean’s finest traits so he prevails.

“Cm’on, Sammy, best outta three….was…was your idea. You can fuck me into tomorrow again later. Want you to.”

Sam groans. “I hate you.”

Nevertheless, he shifts behind Dean and pulls out carefully, both of them moaning mournfully as they disconnect by sheer force of will.

Dean quickly grabs Sam’s wrist and pulls him alongside himself at the edge of the table. He looks up at his brother’s bright red, sweaty face and lust blown eyes and grins, his own chest heaving with labored breaths. Exuberant delight courses through him at the thought that he put Sam in that state, making him feel young and invincible. An idea blooms.

“Let’s go, kiddo, race ya to the finish line and then we cross streams,” he wheezes and keeps grinning, “X marks the spot.” 

Sam stares at him without comprehension for a few seconds and Dean contemplates repeating himself but suddenly his brother’s expression changes into a well-loved, mischievous slanted look and he knows he’s won.

“You’re so on.” Sam braces one hand on the table and starts to stroke his cock with long hard tugs.

“Fuck, little brother.” Dean quickly reaches inside his panties to pull his aching dick from the tight embrace of the lace. The rush of relief he feels at the firm grip and friction from his own hand sends him leaning heavily on his supporting arm with a long groan. He only lets go of his leaking length for long enough to push the panties lower down and free his balls which are seconds from exploding. Finally, he mirrors Sam’s posture, shifting his free hand to cover Sam’s on top of the table.

Nothing but hard drawn breaths, skin on skin friction and the occasional hiss can be heard for a few moments. Both of them strung out, wound tight and ready to erupt.

Dean’s eyes roam over Sam’s rippling abdomen to where he tugs and twists his long, swollen cock with sharp movements of his wrist. Each jerk of Sam’s hand causes an echoing throb of regret in Dean’s ass and a powerful craving for the feel of Sam’s release shooting deep inside of him. He swears to never interrupt Sam in future, but he can’t deny that he fucking loves the sight of his gorgeous brother working himself hard to give him what he asked for.

Doubling his own efforts, Dean fucks forward into his tight fist, coming up onto the balls of his feet with every rocking of his hips. A bright surge of pleasure has him groaning and slamming his eyes shut for a moment, surrendering his mind to the sensory overload.

“Christ, Dean, so fucking hot.” Sam’s blistering focus suddenly licks over Dean’s skin and his eyes fly back open to catch and hold on Sam’s.

Squeezing his fingers even tighter, Sam strips himself ruthlessly hard, drawing his mind back to Dean’s vise-like tightness, Dean’s sweat slicked skin under his hands, Dean’s noises of pleasure pain, Dean’s lace covered ass, Dean’s thick, heavy cock in his throat and all the other mind-blowing sights and sensations the afternoon presented. It’s hard to breathe, hard to focus, brain fuzzy, body dense.

The fingers of Dean’s free hand spasm and Sam’s fingers on the table spread and they thread them together and hold on tight as the first helix of heat convulses powerfully in their bellies and rushes with a roar to the surface for release.

Sam’s yell breaks into shards around the force of his orgasm, cock jolting in his hand and painting a path across the lower Mississippi Delta and all the way into Georgia. “Fuuuck!” Sam has trouble keeping his feet under him as the next pulse feels like it’s forcefully sucked out of him, his hips straining into the sensation, come streaking farther and hitting the coastline of the Carolinas. 

“Sammy, _Jesus_.” Dean’s eyes are glued to his brother coming like a porn star all over the South and into the Atlantic Ocean. It’s such an amazingly fucking hot sight he almost forgets to pay attention to his own aim when his orgasm rips from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head with spine melting intensity. Dean shudders so violently his first spurt bisects South America coming nowhere close to Sam’s release. Willing himself to concentrate with immense effort as the current of pleasure tries to drag him under, he shoots again, white ribbon flying far and meeting Sam’s on the east coast. Satisfied that it’s nowhere too foreign or too far inland Dean closes his eyes and jerks himself hard a few more times, surfing the high, before he rides out the mellowing waves of his climax, milking it for as long as he can stand it…..or stand. 

Still panting and slowly stroking his own cock, Sam watches with hungry eyes as Dean’s spills his release in erratic hard bursts into Texas, Louisiana, the Gulf of Mexico and finally Florida.

Pumped dry and weak, Dean sags sideways and his sweat slick body meets Sam’s where he’s curled forward over the map table and heavily leaning on his elbows. They just lean into each other for long minutes, catching their breaths and enjoying the support of the other’s solid weight as they come down from the afternoon’s marathon.

Finally, Dean lifts his head from Sam’s shoulder with a quick kiss and dopey grin.

“So, where’re we goin’, Sam?”

Sam groans softly at the creaky feeling in his shoulder where Dean’s weight had rested the moment before and moves slowly to straighten up keeping close to Dean’s side before looking down at the gross mess on the bunker’s strategic table. 

They both squint at the place where splashes of their come intersect and try to judge the location in relation to the small-scale land masses on the map.

“Looks like we need to rent a boat,” Sam remarks with a chuckle trying to determine if “X marks a spot” on land or in the Atlantic Ocean.

Dean cocks his head a little and then shakes it.

“Naw, don’t think so. Get a sharpie and mark the spot, will ya.”

“Dean? What the….?”

“You’ll see.”

Dean tucks himself back into his panties and goes to get a paper map of the U.S. from a shelf nearby.

He winces with a short hiss and moves more gingerly but then smiles fiercely at the intense burn and comforting used feeling emanating from his ass and darkly bruised skin at hip and shoulder. Sam gave him exactly what he needed. He’ll be relishing this for days.

When he returns to the table, Sam is wiping off their combined filth with his plaid shirt, while the index finger of his opposite hand stakes claim to their vacation spot on the map. Next he pulls the cap of the sharpie with his teeth and draws a small, precise X in the same location.

Dean’s grin stretches even wider as he realizes that the mark on the table will preserve the memory of this fucking awesome afternoon long after his body has shed all signs of the experience.

He unfolds the map with a snap of his wrist and grabs one of the nautical dividers from the table and gets to work quickly determining that his first suspicion was correct.

“Huh,” Sam huffs next to him still naked as the day he was born. “Where’d you learn how to use that?”

Dean smirks up at his gorgeously disheveled brother. “Pirates, man. Love me some pirates. Y’can learn all kinds of useful stuff from pirates.”

Sam snorts a short laugh.

“Thought it was cowboys and the Wild West.”

Dean bumps his shoulder and hip into Sam’s and says seriously.

“Always, yeah, but where we’re going….it’s pirates, Sammy.”

Dean’s excitement catches on and Sam leans eagerly over the table and the map.

“So, what’s the prize at the shooting gallery? Whadda we get?”

“Outer Banks, North Carolina,” Dean declares with a sharp tap of his finger on the paper map, “I’d say we’re going to Kill Devil Hills, Sammy, where the rum is strong enough to kill the devil as legend has it.”

He grins up at his brother and Sam’s warm, full laugh overflows Dean’s heart and fills the cavernous room.

It may not exactly be Florida or Mexico but it’s a beach. The sea in their sights, cooler of beer next to the chairs, toes in the sand and his brother by his side – it’s the best vacation he can imagine.

And most importantly…..it’s not Nebraska.

THE END

Find the next chapter here (where they actually take that vacation):

[Part 2 of the Not Nebraska Series - Kill Devil Hills - HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681340)

**Author's Note:**

> All three of us authors appreciate your kudos and comments, and your corrections for grammar, spelling, misused or misspelled words. Thank you for reading!


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